Art of the Dark
by Cabbie Esq
Summary: This is a sequel to a story written by my writing buddy, Shady. She and I wrote it together after she completed her story. Todd and Téa are a reunited family with their baby boys, home after a terrifying kidnapping ordeal. They are facing a new mysterious threat though, one that is rooted in the spiritual, that reaches them from beyond the confines of earthly surroundings.
1. Chapter 1 - Author's Note

**From Cabbie: Hello TnT Readers! This is a reconfiguration of a story written by Shady and myself back in early 2000s. This is a continuation of Shady's own fanfiction story. In her tale, Todd actually has DID (multiple personality disorder) and has been treated for it. He believes he is "cured," and has rather moved on from his illness. Dean Shelton is Shady's original character who was part of an orchestrated kidnapping of Téa by Roseanne, Téa's bitterly jealous cousin. Unbeknownst to everyone in Téa's life, Dean developed a platonic relationship with her while she was captive, allowing and helping her rescue. Roseanne and him were sent to prison for the scheme only he has escaped and is now on the run. This story revolves around Roseanne and picks up after the Delgado-Manning family is reunited after the kidnapping. Starts out gentle… but hang on, the ride gets BUMPY! Happy to repost once again! Enjoy!**

 **From Shady:** **"Art" is actually the third story in a series that I started writing after TNT's wedding fiasco, and Todd's departure in 1998, which sorta-kinda implied that he really** _ **did**_ **suffer from DID. I was pretty PO'ed about how things were left between Todd and Téa, and so sad that the story would not continue (at least not for some time), that I just went off on my own. I've thoroughly enjoyed writing all of the stories I've done with TNT, but Art is very different. Not only because it's a collaboration with another writer, my good friend Cabbie...but also because I'm the most proud of it. Forgive me for tooting our horns here, but I really think this story goes so far beyond what came before it. I think it leaves the strict confines of the soap in the dust and turns into something much more epic in scale. It also delves so much deeper into characters that the show created and then never used to their full potential.**

 **I know that when this story was a 'current' thing on the boards, when it was being doled out chapter by chapter every so often, I know it was definitely** _ **not**_ **popular. I mean, how could it be, right? We broke them up. Added these weird aspects of dark magic and psychic abilities...and had both Todd and Téa (but especially Todd) do some things that were just...unimaginable. This was not the standard TNT fanfic reality. Not even close. And I'm so glad. This tale is blunt, ugly, dark and scary...but to us,** _ **that's**_ **who they are. They're beautiful, and hideous, passionate...and tragic.** _ **That...**_ **is TNT.**

 **And out of all the stuff I ever wrote, this is the one thing that I would like to give a life of its own, its own little place on the web to stay, so that any TNTers jonesing for a fix can come and get one...for however long there may still be TNTers out there.**

 **ART OF THE DARK - PART 1**

A single votive candle throws out as much light as it can, fighting against the enveloping dark space. Its tiny flame bends and shivers, reacting to the breeze from Roseanne's mouth as she whispers to herself words so strange they almost sound like another language. The light dances on her face, giving her an otherworldly, eerie glow as she stares at the flame intensely, oblivious to the world around her…

...until finally, the flame sputters and burns itself out. Roseanne blinks rapidly, shaking her head, snapping out of her self-induced trance. It takes a minute to realize where she is...then her eyes fall on the burnt-out candle. She picks it up, looking at it in the available light from the hallway outside.

"Shit," she mutters, then goes digging under her mattress for the box of votives she had smuggled into the prison. Feeling suddenly drained, she looks at the box, sighing, then shakes her head, stuffing the box back under the mattress. She gets up, placing the burnt-out candle in the sink before collapsing onto her cot. She turns onto her stomach, staring out at the hallway through the bars, listening to the distant sounds of the guards, talking quietly among themselves. Exhausted from her nightly ritual, she closes her eyes, letting her head drop onto her pillow…

… wondering if all of her hard work is paying off as she falls asleep.

* * *

A moving truck makes its way through the night on a heavily wooded secondary road headed eastward. The driver stares blankly at the road in front of him, turning the wheel this way and that way, zoning out as he follows the curves.

It isn't long before his head starts to dip down, and his eyelids start to droop. When his head gets heavy enough, he suddenly perks up, blinking himself awake just in time to see a sharp curve in the road. He turns the wheel, shaking his head, still trying to wake himself up. He takes his eyes off the road for just a second…

...and when he looks back, he notices a pair of glowing green dots in the distance. He squints, taking his foot off the gas, trying to see what it is. The truck slows but still moves toward the object at a pretty good clip. Finally, it gets close enough to become fully visible in the headlights.

The driver's eyes widen suddenly when he sees the deer standing in the middle of the road, frozen by the headlights in its face. Reacting before he can think, he slams on the brakes, turning the wheel to avoid hitting it. The tires make a heinous squealing sound as the truck spins around. Finally out of the glare of the lights, the deer takes off into the woods on the other side of the road, oblivious to what is happening.

The driver realizes he's lost control just as the truck tips over onto its side, slamming down. The force of the impact breaks the trailer doors open, and the cargo goes flying out onto the road, as the truck skids along, creating sparks. Hanging on for dear life inside, the driver catches a glimpse out the windshield, screaming curse words to himself as he sees the embankment coming toward him.

But the truck seems to magically slow its skid, coming to rest at the edge. The driver looks out the windshield again, just in time to see two large crates go over the side. He looks after them, cringing as they smash against the hillside. The crates splinter and break open, spewing out broken pieces of the two custom-made, mahogany cradles that were inside.

* * *

In her cell, Roseanne suddenly wakes up, startled. She sits up, eyes wide, overcome by a sense of something powerful. She doesn't know what, or how, or why, but she feels it inside. _Something just happened...somewhere…_ and as she sits there in the dark, she knows…

 _...it's started._

* * *

The sounds that break through the blackness of Todd's sleep are high-pitched and tell a wordless, dark story. He quickly ecognizes them as his own childhood screams, the ones that accompanied his splintering into bits and pieces, his creating alters which would allow him to survive his harrowing childhood.

The shrieks rip into him and he tries to open his eyes to see his assailant, but it's no use. He remains blind and frozen amidst the cries, beneath the relentless attacks on his body.

 _Face me, Peter, come face me. You don't have to sneak up on me anymore - I know you._

Despite his terror, he knows hearing those screams are good for him, that to hear and see what happened is a necessary and freeing... _evil._

Yes, that's right.

 _Evil_.

Apart from absorbing it through the memories of his past, he knows evil as a living, breathing thing. He is personal and friendly with it. It crawls through him like a parasite, sucking the joy from his being, from his soul. He's learned to live with it. He'll never be rid of it ... and it has put him on a first-name basis with its progeny, with its brothers and sisters.

And they know him as one of their own.

Tonight ... he's feeling that evil again. Hearing it in the tortured cries of a boy, feeling it all around him.

Todd at last pops his eyes open and realizes the babies are crying ... both of them, Brendan and Evan. He sits up, panting a bit from the dream, perspiring a little. Noticing Téa struggle to get up, still sore from the c-section delivery, Todd gently places his hand on her shoulder.

"No," he says, "Don't get up, I'll get them."

"Todd," Tea mumbles, lying back on the bed, "You can't take care of both of them."

"Watch me," he says lightheartedly, covering up the creepy-crawly feeling he still has all over him. He shivers in the cold of the penthouse and vows to up the thermostat because it's too crisp for those precious boys in their bassinets. They're still so tiny, even after all the time they spent in neonatal care. This is their first night at home. _Some night,_ Todd thinks. He also vows to increase the wattage on those measly night lights ... maybe get a set of those lights you can just press on, the glowy, stick-on kind advertised on TV at three in the morning.

 _Yeah, buy like ten of them, so they'll brighten the way to the bassinets from the bed. Down the stairs... it'll look like Disneyland._

Todd leans into the first bassinet and picks up Brendan, avoiding the instinctual desire to bounce him as he holds him. Then he leans over and picks up Evan, simply slipping his hand and arm beneath the baby. Both now in his arms, Todd skillfully supporting their heads on delicate necks with his hands. _So fragile,_ he thinks. Sort of rocking them gently, he says, "Ta-da!"

Téa laughs quietly amidst their crying and he thinks that's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard, smiling at it. He walks out of the room to the nursery, flipping on the low-level light with his elbow. He places Brendan in the crib - still far too big for him. He places Evan on the changing table and both are screaming again. He unwraps Evan, who cries even harder at being exposed to the air, and removes the diaper, squinting at seeing the baby's... injuries.

The umbilical stump still hasn't fallen off yet despite their concerted efforts at the hospital and the baby's tiny penis still is wrapped in gauze from the circumcision he got today. Oh, Todd had fought that, fought hard against the doctors and even Téa. He didn't want his boys cut. That was too much for him to take. But he finally gave in to that bit of torture on the basis of health reasons and immediately regretted it. He still regrets it even though it's healthier and easier… _blah, blah, blah, it's still getting cut,_ he thinks.

He finishes diapering Evan, wrapping him up tightly in the blanket, wraps him the way Carlotta Vega showed Téa and him earlier. Tight like a burrito, like the ones that Téa liked so much while pregnant. _Taco Bell Supreme number one and Taco Bell Supreme number two,_ he joked about the boys being swaddled so tightly.

He quickly lays Evan down and picks up Brendan who is screaming like crazy, hiccupping cries now that he was abandoned for so long. Todd keeps apologizing and realizes Evan is continuing to cry. He glances at him but pushes forward with the changing of Brendan. Unlike Evan, Brendan's umbilical stump fell off the way it was supposed to but he too has that gauze on his penis and it only reminds Todd again of what feels like a willful assault on his sons. He stops a moment at that thought and breathes deeply, thinking of a number of unmentionable things, including Téa's continuing recovery from her own terrifying experience, the kidnapping during her pregnancy, but pushes the dark thoughts aside. He finishes Brendan's changing, swaddling him securely. He then carries Brendan in his arms and picks up Evan. He walks with both of them downstairs, both crying because they're hungry. The classic 2:00 a.m. feeding; which followed a 9:00 p.m. feeding, an 11:00 p.m. feeding and will most likely precede a 4:00 a.m. feeding, and then maybe a 7:00... then …

"God, you guys, can you learn to eat just a little bit less?" he mutters to them affectionately, kissing Brendan on his warm head. Once in the kitchen, he sets Brendan down on a baby-seat on the floor, hating to step away from him. He holds Evan because he's smaller, and Todd feels some sort of obligation to him first. Evan seems the needier one, the weaker one. He pulls the bottles out of the refrigerator and sticks them both in the automatic warmer. Waits the appropriate amount of time and then sets the bottles down on the coffee table. He gets Brendan and seats himself in the big rocker, with both boys in his arms, staring at the bottles two feet away.

"Well...this is interesting," he says.

The boys are crying and he rocks a little, trying to figure out how to get the bottles to the babies. He wishes he was Russian and could bend spoons. Maybe the bottles would simply float to him, like magic. _Black magic,_ he suddenly thinks, but shakes away the thought, not knowing where it came from. He then hears Téa's gentle laughter behind him.

"It's complicated with two," she says. "When you're all alone."

Todd turns up and sees her tired face, her amused smile. She moves around and picks up one of the babies, settling into the rocker next to Todd after grabbing one of the bottles. Todd gets the other one and they both proceed to feed their boys. Todd and Téa look at each other as they both bottle-feed the boys, smiling softly at each other. Todd mouths the words, "I love you." Téa says it back and shakes her head in disbelief, at the incredulousness that they are both here rocking their boys, their children, and sharing a part of life that is indeed miraculous.

They'd all been through so much. Todd knows that bottle-feeding is not what Téa had wanted, he can see it in her eyes, the tinge of sadness at not being able to nurse her sons. She'd tried to breastfeed, but with the boys being premature they needed special formula to give them an extra boost. Plus, to nurse twins would keep her practically a slave to the breastfeeding, or so it seemed to him. She compromised by pumping breast milk every four hours and alternating it with the special formula. Nevertheless, the coldness of a machine against her breast was a far cry from their loving suckles. When the children finish their bottles, and the boys more or less burp, a difficult process due to their smallness, Todd and Téa sit in the dreamy light with their children who are now sleeping peacefully.

Téa says in a whisper, "You seemed upset earlier. Did you have ... a bad dream?"

Todd thinks that he'd been covering up pretty well - _how the hell did she know?_ He shrugs, whispers back, "Yeah...the boys' crying ... kinda made me dream stuff. How long had they been crying? I just couldn't wake up."

"They'd just started, _amor,_ just as you sat up. You didn't let them suffer long." She smiled at him and he looked down at Brendan. Sometimes Téa's own peacefulness saddened him because he knew she was still haunted by her experiences and whatever quiet acceptance she had gained had come from very hard work. From having these boys. Again, hard work.

"That's weird," Todd says. "The dream had been going on ... oh well. I'm sure it's just stress, you know ... the whole thing with Shelton getting out...whatever." He avoids Téa's eyes, because he doesn't want to reveal just how angry he is about that, about her captor escaping prison. He grits his teeth. He should have gotten fucking executed.

"Um ... have we heard anything?" Téa asks, biting her lip.

Todd turns to her and snaps, "No." He calms himself, though, muttering, "Let's just get these boys to bed. I don't want to mention that bastard around the boys."

Her eyes immediately dart over in his direction. She starts to turn her head...but catches herself, and is glad she does. She covers up by directing her attention to Brendan, snoozing away in her arms. But the relief is quickly replaced by anger at Todd, for referring to Dean that way. She steals a glance at him, watches him as he gathers all the baby stuff and starts to get up with Evan.

She sighs quietly...he just didn't understand, and probably never would. Then she makes a face, getting mad at herself, for reacting at all. _It shouldn't bother you,_ she thinks, looking back down at her sleeping boy. _Put yourself in his shoes… if you were him, you'd hate the guy too. You'd be calling him a lot worse than that. It shouldn't bother you._

Todd shifts Evan around a little, to get a better hold on him...not much work, since the tiny boy fits nicely in the crook of his arm. He looks at Téa. "Ready?" She looks up at him, and nods, then stands up as slowly as she can, and follows him toward the stairs, with Brendan in her arms.

Shouldn't bother her… but it does… and she realizes that she's going to have to be careful. Todd was already suspicious enough about her feelings toward Dean. The fact that she had any feelings at all toward him that weren't feelings of anger bothered him greatly. It bothered her too, was a confusing reality, but they still remained and had become a sore spot between them.

But with all the other things going on, it was easy enough to dismiss...god knows they were both just so tired of dealing with the whole thing. Just thinking about it exhausts her...so she dismisses it again, wanting only to be with her family. They walk carefully upstairs, one behind the other and soon place the babies into their lace-covered bassinets, too frilly for Todd, but insisted upon by Carlotta.

 _She and her suspicious ways,_ Todd had thought as he had looked at the boys surrounded by lace, Téa on his arm.

 _"It's good luck, to surround them with beauty,"_ Carlotta had told Todd, who had wanted to take away the lacy junk. _"It will lead them to a beautiful life,"_ she had concluded. Who was he to argue with that? He'd finally given in, the way he'd been giving in to everything when it came to Brendan and Evan. But when he was alone, when Téa and Carlotta had finished putting the lace around the bassinets, when they finally lay the babies down for a nap, Todd had bent down to the sleeping boys and whispered to them, _"You guys need all the luck you can get so don't sweat the lace. It's a formality, just a formality. You're both still men ... in spirit. You got a little growing to do...but you're still men."_

Todd and Téa lie down on their bed, Todd pulling Téa close to him, hugging her delicately so as not to hurt her incision. "You're amazing," he says. "How'd you get to be so strong?"

"Women are naturally strong," she answers exaggeratedly, teasing him.

"No, it's more than that."

"I don't know, maybe knowing you're with me. Knowing how strong YOU are. That helps ... so much. And the boys - they've given me something that's far beyond words."

"What's it like? Knowing that two people came out of you?"

She's quiet for a couple of beats. Then she tries to answer. "Growing up, I was taught about miracles. I THOUGHT I believed in them, understood them ... but until a few weeks ago, I didn't realize what it really was. When I saw those boys, I learned what a miracle was." Téa starts to tear up, and Todd kisses her cheeks. "Todd, we could have lost them so many times. I could have..."

"Shhh...we didn't lose them and I didn't lose _you_. I know what a miracle is, too. You ... you're one."

Téa smiles at him, kissing his lips, feeling them with hers. She can see, though, in his eyes, something. She realizes that it's fear. "You're really worried about… _him…_ coming back? You ... um ... don't have to be," she says, placing her hand on the side of his face. He doesn't say anything for a moment, trying to pick his words, trying not to show how deeply connected he's feeling to ... that other side.

"Téa," he finally says. "Isn't there a saying that goes, 'He that giveth can taketh away?'"

"Oh, now it's my turn to say, shush."

"No. Listen to me. We've been ... so damned lucky. You and me, here. The boys. Shelton, well, he's just another bastard and I'm used to dealing with that. I mean what's one more, you know? But I keep thinking that everything else is just ... so ... temporary. That the good feelings I have ... that ... it's all gonna slip away again. That something's gonna happen-"

"I know ... that's what I was trying to say."

"No. You were talking about what could have happened in the past. I'm talking about what CAN happen. That's always been a fundamental difference between you and me."

"And what's that?"

"The fact that you always seemed willing to just forge ahead, to not be concerned about ... what COULD happen. Like with me. You… uh… always said you trusted that I wouldn't hurt you. You were ready to take a leap that I could never do."

Téa wraps her arms around him, closing her eyes to her own fears about the future, about the fragility of everything around them. How very passing happiness could be. "Miracles," she whispered. "We just have to believe in them. And realize that we're entitled to have them."

"Yeah," Todd whispers back, shrugging. "Miracles..."

As the minutes wear on, Téa soon falls asleep, but Todd doesn't. His eyes remain open, on the watch, hoping like hell their miracles will continue. Hoping like hell they exist at all.

 **To be continued….**


	2. Chapter 2

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 2**

 _The couch is definitely the world's greatest invention._

That's what Todd thinks to himself, as he lies there, in the light of the afternoon sun, motionless, feeling all his limbs relaxing. He listens to the quiet around him, quiet except for the faint sounds coming from upstairs. Téa is with the babies, changing them and getting them dressed. He'd just spent the last hour picking up the mess in the living room, getting the place ready for the onslaught of company, which would undoubtedly be starting today, the first official day home with the babies.

He sighs at that, wishing he could keep everyone out, away from their home, their safe haven. _Safe._ He makes a face...wondering what made him think that. _Who says it's safe? It still gets dark, even in here._ He quirks again, wondering where _that_ thought came from.

He sits up, rubbing his face, running his hands over his hair, catching it all in a bunch behind his head and holding it there. He finds himself having to shake off another one of those weird, creepy-crawly chills. He'd been doing it all day...and the night before. _God, what the hell's wrong with me?_ But before he can become too introspective, the whole place suddenly echoes with loud knocking.

"Dad! Tee!" Todd looks over toward the penthouse door, at his daughter's muffled voice coming through it. He shakes his head, still shaking off the creeps as he gets up and heads for the door. He swings it open to find Blair, holding a big, beautifully wrapped gift.

"Hey," she says, with her typical blinding smile. Todd just stares back at her, blankly, suspiciously, suddenly noting how his ex-wife always seems like such a phony, even when she's being sincere.

Starr, just turned nine years old, on the other hand, just pushes past him, wasting no time. "Where are they? Can I see 'em?" she says, as Todd makes his way back into the living room, leaving Blair to let herself in. She takes a few steps into the living room and stops, her expression exaggerated, making like she's impressed. "Wow...I expected the place to be a mess."

Todd grins as he scoops a giggling Starr up in his arms, and turns around to face her. "Yeah, well… just don't look under the couch," he says, as he plants a big kiss on Starr's cheek. Then he shifts around, barely able to keep her from slipping out of his arms. "Jeez, Shorty, you're gettin' too big to hold."

"Guess I'm not a _shorty_ anymore, huh?" she says, proudly. Blair cracks up at that, then her eyes catch Téa, coming down the stairs slowly, with a twin in each arm. She looks at Starr, and points. Todd turns around with her and Starr gasps with delight, her face lighting up. She wriggles out of her dad's embrace and runs over to Téa, running right into her and hugging her around the middle.

Téa reels from the weight of her, smarting a little. "Ooof...hey, you."

"Hi! Hi!" Starr says, waving at both of the babies. "Can I hold 'em? Pleeeeeease?" Téa laughs, gesturing to the couch. " 'Course you can. Go on, sit down." As Starr jumps on the couch and settles in, Téa walks up to Blair, smiling gently. Blair smiles back, but there's a bit of an awkward silence between them, as there always has been, and probably always will be.

Finally, Blair shrugs, making an effort. "So...how do you feel?" she asks.

Téa looks at her for a moment, then just cracks up, shaking her head. "Like crap."

Her unexpected candor takes Blair off-guard...and to her own surprise, and Téa's...she laughs earnestly and nods. "Mmm-hmm. Been there, done THAT."

Todd sits down on the couch, next to Starr. They watch as Téa turns a side to Blair. "Blair, this is Evan. Say hi to Blair, Ev." Blair can't help but smile at the tiny boy. "Wow...hey there, handsome."

Then Téa cocks her head to the other side. "And this...is Brendan." Téa notices the look that suddenly comes over Blair, her eyes misting a little, but still she smiles at him, reaching out and gently touching his hand.

"Oh...I always liked that name," she says, softly.

Téa glances over at Todd who flashes a surprisingly empathetic expression at Blair's obvious recall of her own Brendan, the stillborn baby she would never see grow up. Then she moves closer to Blair, offering her the baby. "You wanna hold him?"

Blair looks at her, and tries to say something, but she's too surprised. Téa just smiles back. "Don't worry, he's been fed and burped and changed, so… he should be pretty mellow for a while."

Blair just laughs, then offers her arms. Todd and Starr watch as Brendan passes from Téa's arms to Blair's, gently. She shifts him around, making sure she has a good hold on him. His head comes to rest comfortably in the crook of her arm, and Blair laughs again, as he looks up at her, blinking contentedly. She looks up at Téa, who tosses one of those soft, terry baby towels over her shoulder.

"Think he likes you," Téa says, smiling, as she heads for the couch.

Todd reaches up and takes Evan out of Téa's arms, holding him out in front of Starr with just his two hands, one behind his head, the other under his butt, letting his arms and legs dangle. "Say hi to your big sis, there, dude."

Starr waves at him. "Hi!" she chirps happily, as Téa lays a towel over her lap and sits down beside her.

"Ready?"

She nods, smoothing the towel over her lap and holding her arms out. Todd gently places Evan in Starr's arms as Téa helps her get a hold of him properly. Evan settles into position without complaint, kind of sinking down into her arms. "There you go," Téa says, "just keep holding his head up, like that...yeah. Oh, here, let me pull your hair back or else he's gonna pull it. There you go...you got it."

"Tee, take a picture...I brought my camera!"

"Oh, okay," Téa says, making an impressed face at Todd as she digs in Starr's little purse, and pulls out a disposable camera. Blair laughs as she holds Brendan, swaying a little.

"Y'know, ever since she got back from Montana, she's been crazy about taking pictures. We got tons of 'em, laying all over the house now. I think you're gonna be a famous photographer someday, sweetie."

Starr smiles broadly, then turns her attention back to Evan, making little noises at him. He looks up at her with bright, inquisitive eyes, stretching and squirming around. Todd looks at his daughter admiringly, watching her. He grins, amazed...amazed at how she's grown, amazed that such a happy, secure, loving, beautiful child came from him and from Blair, two of the most fucked-up people on the planet. His smile fades into a bit of a grimace.

"Smile," Téa says, as she takes a picture of them. They all blink at the flash. Téa turns and snaps a shot of Blair with Brendan, then puts the camera back in Starr's bag. She glances over at Todd and notices how intently he's staring at Starr. She furrows her brow a little, about to say something, when he suddenly gets up.

"Be right back," he says, as he darts into the kitchen. Téa looks after him, a little concerned, but Blair interrupts her train of thought, passing in front of her to sit down with Brendan.

"So Téa … you should open your gift."

"Oh! Right," she responds, lowering herself down on the floor, a bit carefully. She turns and glances toward the kitchen again, then shrugs off her worry, turning her attention to the box. She pulls the bow off, rips the paper and starts digging through the layers of tissue. Finally, her hands find the object and she lifts it out. "Ohhhh...it's beautiful," she gushes, smiling at the delicate mobile. She taps the hanging stars and clouds, watching them spin around.

"Wind it up! It plays 'When You Wish Upon a Star,'" Starr says, proudly. Téa cocks an eyebrow at her as she winds the music box.

"Ohhh...a little personal touch. Very nice." She lets go of the key and it starts to play. The tinkly-sounding music draws the attention of the twins, both of them looking over at it. Téa smiles at them both, watching them take in the spinning mobile. When the music loses its steam, she places it back in the box, gently. Then she gets up and goes over to the couch, planting a kiss on Starr's head.

"Thank you, _amorcita_ … it's beautiful," she says, then she smiles at Blair. "Thanks, Blair. That was really thoughtful."

Blair nods back, as Brendan reaches out and grabs a strand of her hair, yanking. "Ow!" she yelps, laughing a little, pulling her hair out of his grasp. Téa stifles a giggle, her expression apologetic, as Blair holds the baby out in front of her and admonishes the baby, "Now you listen here, mister. There'll be none of that."

Brendan thrashes about happily as he looks back at her, kicking his legs out. Blair smiles at him, lifting him up high, then lowering him back down on her shoulder. Téa chuckles as she checks on Evan who's still enjoying Starr's noises and funny faces. She kisses his head, then gets up. "Listen, let me get you guys some iced tea or something. That okay?"

Blair and Starr both nod, but are totally distracted by the babies. Téa grins at them, then heads for the kitchen. When she gets to the doorway, she stops...seeing Todd standing at the sink, just leaning on it, his back to her. She watches him for a moment, then takes a few steps toward him.

"Hey," she says.

He whirls around, startling her. Then he calms down, slumping against the sink. She walks up to him, leaning on the kitchen chair in front of him. "You okay?" she asks, quietly.

He nods, but is clearly not. Téa gives him a knowing look. "I know that look. It's not a good one...so what is it?"

Todd gazes at her, and her eyes say what they always say to him. _I'm here, with you. I'm not going anywhere._ It always made him feel better...and it did this time, too, but...there was also something else. A familiar feeling comes over him, and it's something he hasn't felt in a while. For some reason, he's reminded of the time when their relationship was at its most fragile and tumultuous, when it seemed like they were always seconds away from destroying each other. He remembers looking at her then, and being scared of that very thing, scared he would lose her for good, because of the kind of person he was, because of an unrelenting darkness that was so much a part of him, that wouldn't let him go.

But he had been able to push that fear down, had been able to get past it just enough to keep his bond with her intact. In fact, with everything that had happened, that old fear had gotten pushed way down to the bottom of the pile of fears he kept inside. Other fears had taken its place, primarily the fear for her safety, the fear for his children's safety, much more basic, perhaps more practical fears. But Todd wrinkles his brow a little, realizing that the _old_ fear has returned.

Téa stands up, taking a step into him, looking more intently at him. Her voice deepens, serious, "Todd, what is it?"

He shrugs. "Dunno...it was weird. I was just looking at Starr, and...all of a sudden I felt really weird."

"Weird."

He shrugs again, avoiding her lawyerly eyes. "Scared, I guess."

She sighs, knowing what he's talking about, then she reaches up and pushes his hair behind his ears, her favorite sign of affection.

"I know I don't have to tell you this, but...I'll say it anyway. I'm not going anywhere. I'm here, the kids are here… we'll ALWAYS be here." He looks back at her, relieved by those words but at the same time, a little troubled by them. "...I could never leave you, you know that. We're joined at the hip," she says.

Todd grins at that, taken off-guard by her gentle wisecrack… then he pulls her closer to him, bringing their faces close. "What, like that?" he asks, in a seductive whisper. Téa grins back, blushing a little.

"Yeah...something like that," she starts, then cracks up. "...Except without the clothes and stuff," she finishes, giggling.

He cracks up at that, too, and they stand there laughing quietly for a moment, their foreheads tapping together gently. When they finally simmer down, Todd leans in and kisses her, lightly at first, then a bit harder. Téa responds to it, grabbing a hold of the back of his head, tangling her fingers in his hair. He wraps his arms around her, tightening his hold on her as much as possible without hurting her. The two of them quickly become wrapped up in each other, both of them having just about forgotten what it was like to do this. But before it gets too intense, the sound of someone clearing their throat breaks the moment.

They separate and look toward the door to see Starr standing there, arms folded. She cocks an eyebrow at them knowingly.

"Are you guys making another baby already?" she asks, as if she already knew the answer.

Both Todd and Tea's eyes widen at that. They look at each other, stunned silent for a moment. Then Todd makes a face at his daughter, pointing at the living room. "Uh, hey, smarty pants. Get your little butt back in the living room."

"But I'm thirsty. Tee said she was getting us a drink."

"Oh! Yeah, I did, didn't I?" Téa says, breaking away from Todd and going to the fridge. She grabs a few small bottles. "Here, Starr...one for you, one for your mom." Starr grabs the bottles, then gives her dad a cheesy smile over her shoulder as she struts out of the room. Téa grabs a couple more bottles, tossing one over to Todd before she closes the fridge. She just laughs again, still caught totally off-guard. She makes a silly face at Todd as she opens her bottle with a pop.

He returns the look, walking up to her and punching her arm lightly. "That was all your fault, y'know."

She punches his arm back, harder. "Was NOT...shut up."

"Was too," he says, returning the hit.

"Was NOT!"

"Was TOO!" They stand there, punching each other's arms until they both start laughing again. And it's a relief to let go a little, to try… at least. Téa finally slaps his hands away playfully and sprints for the door. Todd catches up and grabs her around the shoulders, trying to get at her neck. She lets out a loud, obnoxious laugh as they both stumble out into the living room, still attached. They stop short when they see Blair, Starr...and the twins...all staring at them. They separate, clearing their throats. Blair rolls her eyes a little as Téa walks over and takes Evan out of her arms.

"Here, Manning...hold your kid, for god's sake," she says, jokingly, handing Evan over to Todd. She giggles at his put-upon expression, then he takes the baby from her, propping him up on his shoulder. Téa turns back to Blair, taking Brendan from her.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to strand you with both of them."

"Oh, that's alright, they're..." Blair starts, then lets herself say it, even though it means complementing Téa, indirectly. "...They're both such angels," she says, shrugging. Téa smiles broadly, surprised...and genuinely touched, as she puts Brendan on her shoulder. He immediately starts fussing, and she changes her hold so he's cradled in her arms.

"Better?" she asks. The baby continues to squirm uncomfortably, still fussing. Téa sighs, looking at Blair and Starr. "Well...maybe angel isn't quite the word," she says, as Evan follows suit, and starts crying too. Téa shakes her head, saddened over the growing noise. "Listen, I think they both need a nap, so, um..."

Blair stands up, checking her watch as she finishes her tea. "Yeah...that's okay, we gotta run anyhow."

Starr grabs her mom's hand. "Can't I stay?"

"Sweetie, we gotta get you over to River's, remember? Now c'mon, gotta go."

"Oh," Starr replies, a little disappointed.

"Well, we'll see you this weekend," Téa says, heading for the stairs with a loudly protesting Brendan.

Starr immediately brightens up. "Oh! Right! Okay, bye!" she says abruptly, grabbing her little purse. Todd walks them to the door, trying to shush Evan. Blair just laughs at him, shaking her head a little as she slips her sunglasses on.

"Have fun," she says teasingly, then waves and heads for the elevator. He squints after her, then looks down at Starr. She waves...he kisses his hand and blows it to her. She turns away and he gently taps her behind with his foot, pushing her toward Blair. He hears her giggling as he closes the door. As he heads for the stairs, he takes Evan off of his shoulder and cradles him in the crook of his arm, still trying to quiet him.

Téa calls down from upstairs. "Todd, get him up here! They're never gonna settle down until they're together!"

Todd looks down at his boy, getting all red-faced and upset. "Oh, is that it?" he whispers to him, as he walks upstairs and into the bedroom where the bassinets are. Téa stands there, her hand on Brendan's chest, rubbing it soothingly. Todd sets Evan down in his crib, doing the same with him...and within a minute or so, both of them stop crying. Both Todd and Téa stand back, watching as the twin boys drift off to sleep. Todd wraps his arms around Téa's shoulders, holding her from behind.

"That...is weird," he whispers. She nods, whispering back. "I know. Guess there must be some truth in those twin theories, huh?"

"Mmmm," he replies, burying his face in her hair. They stand there for a while just watching them, and Todd suddenly thinks of all the things he'd ever heard about twins. They can sense each other's presence for miles...each can read the other's mind... _one cannot live without the other_. He tightens his grip on Téa, holding her tightly as he shudders a little at that last thought. She lets her head rest on his, not seeing the concern on Todd's face… as he wonders where all these odd random thoughts are coming from.

* * *

The day goes by quickly, with the feeding, changing and napping routines...and the occasional phone call or person dropping by to gush over the kids. Pretty soon the sun's gone down and the penthouse is lit up, and soon after that, the whole place is dark and quiet. Téa wakes up around four in the morning, as her pain medication wears off and the soreness returns. Her hands move down to her belly even before her eyes open, lightly touching the area near the healing cut, right above her pubic bone. She opens her eyes as she tenses up, smarting at her own touch.

She lies still for a moment, hoping it will subside, but it doesn't. She sighs, cautiously pushing herself up on her elbows, and she stays there a moment, getting used to the position before she tries going further.

She takes a moment to look around. Right next to her is Todd, eyes closed and peaceful. She stares at him for a while, wondering if he's really asleep. But as she looks at him, barely visible in the dark, and notes his chest rising and falling slowly, she knows he is. Her lips curl up into a small, tired smile...feeling like she's getting a peek at something secret.

 _Well, Todd Manning DOES sleep, after all._ She watches him a bit longer, knowing it's probably just pure exhaustion that's knocked him out...but it's quite a sight all the same. She smiles again, then starts the process of getting herself out of bed so as not to disturb him. She slips one leg over the side, planting her foot on the floor...then she uses that leg to pull herself toward the edge, grabbing onto it. She clenches her teeth as she pushes herself up to a sitting position. Once there, she takes a few breaths to take the edge off the pain, then steels herself again as she stands up. She turns around and looks at Todd, and he hasn't moved. She grins... _mission accomplished,_ she thinks, as she takes small steps over toward the bassinets holding the boys.

Peering over the tops, she realizes she can't even see them with all the blankets and bedding in the way. She shakes her head, reaching in and pulling the blankets down a bit. Her brow crinkles. She pulls the blankets down farther...and farther...finally, she yanks them out altogether…

...to find an empty bassinet. She shakes her head in disbelief as she reaches into the other one, pulling the blankets out. A breath escapes her lips as she realizes it's empty too. Her heart racing now, she lets out a loud whisper…

"TODD!" She looks toward the bed except he's gone. She whirls around, trying to see something, anything in the dark. Finally, she hears something out in the hall...

 _...someone yelling...?_

 _...sounds like...Todd..._

Téa makes her way over to the door, looking out into the hall.

"Open this door RIGHT NOW!"

Her head snaps over in the direction of Todd's voice and she sees him, already dressed, with his long black winter coat on, leaning on the closed bathroom door, frantically shaking the knob before hitting the door with his closed fist, violently pounding the door. Completely bewildered, she steps out into the hall.

"Todd...what are you doing?"

But it's like she isn't there at all. He continues to scream at whoever is on the other side of the door, furious… and beyond formidable. "I said, open this door, goddammit!"

Before she can make sense of the scene, she hears sounds coming from the other side of the door...a child...a boy… Her eyes widen... _no_...two boys, both yelling back at him as they struggle to keep the door closed. They are terrified.

"NO! Leave us ALONE!"

"MOM! **MOM!"**

Todd answers them back, in a low, icy, heartless tone, his mouth at the crack where the door meets the jamb. "Don't bother calling for her, boys. She can't hear you, she can't _stop_ me. Now, open this FUCKING door… OPEN IT!"

All of a sudden, Téa feels the air getting sucked out of her lungs, like someone just punched her in the gut. She stands there, watching this horrible sight, listening to her children crying for her in terror, listening to their father… her husband … the love of her life… threatening them. She tries to speak, tries to move, but she can't. Unable to look at this vision anymore, she slaps her hands over her eyes and sinks to the ground, crying.

"No...please...stop...stop...stop...stop… oh my god..."

Tears run down her cheek and into her nose, waking her up. She sits up quick, breathing hard, and wipes her face. Todd looks over at her from across the room, about to put Brendan back to bed.

"Hey," he whispers. "Just missed the four o'clock show." Not even listening, Téa draws her knees up, burying her face in them. Todd squints at her, unable to see her well. "You okay?"

Muffled crying is his answer. He starts to walk over, then realizes he still has a sleeping Brendan in his hands. Gently, he lays him down in the bassinet and covers him up. Brendan stretches, stirring a bit and yawning before he drifts off again. Todd walks over to Téa's side of the bed and touches her leg. Without a word, she reaches out and hugs him tightly, crying into his shoulder. He wraps his arms around her, touching her gently, and he takes on a confused, concerned look as he realizes she's trembling.

"Oh, hey...hey. What is it?"

She doesn't answer him at first, so they stay like that for a while. Eventually, Todd feels the trembling easing up, and her crying subsides. She pulls back from him, taking deep breaths...then looks at him, wiping her face.

"I just..." she starts, then has to take another deep breath. "I just had the worst dream."

Worried, he says gently, "Looks that way." She stares into his eyes and starts crying all over again, not wanting to say anymore. He reads her in turn, getting a real bad feeling. "Wanna tell me about it?"

She sighs, wiping her face again, knowing she should probably be honest about it. But the images and sounds were so horrible, so unthinkable… The words form, then catch in her mouth, as she stops them from escaping. And as she studies him, she wonders, what would it do to him, to hear that from her? _What WOULD it do?_ They'd been through just about every terrible thing two people could go through. But this…

… this was _the one thing._

The one thing that Todd never talked about, for fear of losing his mind...the one thing she never brought up, for fear of losing him. This was the one room that was off-limits, the door that remained locked, it seemed, for their own good. Fairytale happiness was never in the cards for them, she accepted that...but now here they were, together...finally together in their home, with their baby boys, the family they always wanted, as close to happily-ever-after as they could ever be. And now... _NOW_...she has this horrific vision, a frightening glimpse…

.. of the monster Peter Manning must have been, of the monster Todd could be.

Téa chokes on the words she holds in her throat...how could she possibly tell him? How could she possibly say that she's seen him as _EXACTLY_ what he's been trying his whole life _NOT_ to become? It could undermine everything they'd worked so hard for, it could break his heart...it could scare him back into that place inside himself again... alters could start reappearing…

Decision made. The words come out before she even realizes it. "I was back in that crack house, with those gang members who attacked me," she says, quietly, her voice trailing off as she looks down, closing her eyes.

 _Oh my god. I just lied. I lied to him...and I swore I would never do that._

Feeling awful, mentally and physically, Téa starts to cry again. Todd hugs her close, tucking her head against his neck, rocking her gently. "You know this already," he whispers into her hair, "but nobody's gonna hurt you again. Not you, not the boys. I won't allow it." He feels her nod in response, and hug him back. Then she kisses his neck softly, patting his arm.

"I gotta get up," she says.

They separate and she wipes her face. He hunches down slightly to look in her eyes. "Sure you're okay?"

She smiles, tiredly, nodding. "Yeah," she says, gently twirling a strand of his hair around her finger. "Painkiller's wearing off, that's all," she continues, looking over at the clock. "I can't take anymore for another couple of hours, so...I should just get up, I think."

"And do what?" he asks, disbelieving. "You're not getting like these guys, are ya? You DO know what time it is."

She laughs a little, trying hard to put her nightmare out of her mind.

"Hey, some of the BEST stuff on TV is on right now. Infomercials and endless reruns of that real-life show with all the kids living rent-free in some swanky pad in Hawaii or San Francisco or whatever...picking fights with each other all day long...quality stuff."

He chuckles at that. Just then, a soft, fussing cry floats out of one of the bassinettes. They both look over at it. Todd makes a little clicking sound with his mouth. "He was still asleep when Brendan got up just now. I was hoping he'd STAY asleep," he sighs, collapsing, his head hanging off the edge at the foot of the bed. Téa pats his leg and slowly makes her way up and out.

He gently grabs her leg. "I can get him," he says.

She takes his hand, squeezing it. "Nah," she says, "...fair's fair. Besides, like I said. I was getting up anyway." She makes her way over to a fussing Evan. Todd turns over on his stomach, watching Téa scoop him up, and gently place her pinky finger in his mouth to quiet him temporarily. She glances over at Brendan, still asleep...then shuffles toward the door, stopping to look at Todd.

"You guys rest...Ev and I are gonna watch the tube," she whispers, smiling at him as she closes the door behind her. Téa gets all the way to the bottom of the stairs before stopping. She looks down at Evan's face in the moonlight. He looks up at her, sucking on her finger quietly. She suddenly lets out a labored breath, and the pent-up tears start to flow...as she lets out all the stress of holding back. She puts Evan on her shoulder, closing her eyes and hugging him tightly, as he starts to fuss again.

"Ohhhh...it's alright, it was just a dream, just a bad dream," she whispers, more to herself than to the baby.

 **To be continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 3**

Roseanne stretches out on her back, laying on the springy cot of the jail cell, aggravated because she has no candles with which to further her business of ...taking care of Téa. The greyness of the cell reminds her of her incomplete mission, of the fact that so far, so good and, _dammit,_ Téa needs some pain in her life. She needs to understand deprivation, needs to understand true loss because let's face it, everything always comes full circle for her. For every hit, she gets a prize. It's like her misery begets happiness, begets ... rewards.

 _Damn that bitch._

Rolling over onto her stomach, Roseanne watches a new inmate get placed into the cell across the way, the female officer too snippy, too authoritative. The newcomer is an African-American woman, wearing plain khaki pants with a colorful print blouse, sporting long braids hanging down her back. But what's most provocative, most enlightening, is the gleam in her green eyes as she glances over at Roseanne. Pretty features, sharp ones.

 _She knows a lot,_ Roseanne thinks.

The door slams shut and as the guard walks away, with her back to Roseanne, the young woman reaches her hands towards the ceiling and rocks her head back, reaching ... reaching. She relaxes and then turns around to Roseanne, and says …

"What are you starin' at, girl? Somet'in' you like or somet'in' you afraid of?"

Roseanne's brow wrinkles at her accent ... she couldn't quite place it _... Haiti? Jamaica?_ Something like that.

"Where are you from?" she asks.

"Ah...now dat really be none a' your business now, is it?" the woman replies, smiling again, flashing that knowingness across at Roseanne. The woman then sits down on the cot and puts her hands over her eyes, swaying back and forth, humming some non-melodic notes. Then she begins whispering words that Roseanne can't make out. For some reason, Roseanne is transfixed by the sight, drawn to her, dying to know what she's doing, what she's saying. The woman gets to her knees and with her closed eyes, again, reaches upwards. After some minutes, she lowers her hands to her knees and relaxes once again.

Roseanne has to ask. "Are you praying?"

The woman laughs. "Ya'. Prayin' to da devil."

Roseanne doesn't smile back, choosing instead to sit up on the cot and push back, almost protectively. A smart-ass answer, sure, but something in the statement's tone makes her think the woman is telling the truth ... and she thinks maybe she ought to get out of the way of firing prayers.

"I use candles when I do that," Roseanne says, "and now I'm out of them...probably won't get any more for a month."

The woman chuckles. "Candles ... you really think dat gonna do anyt'in? I bet you try makin' little dolls, too, eh? Ya make little dolls, stab dem wit pins?" she says, making stabbing gestures.

Roseanne shrugs, a little hurt by her put-down and she wasn't really sure why. She doesn't even know this woman ... but she can't help feeling like she is in the presence of wisdom, experience. The woman gets up, walking slowly toward the bars, a good-natured, but still all-knowing smile on her face.

"Listen, cher ... you don't need candles or tiny dolls to prick needles into. You don't need anyt'in' 'cept da power o' YOUR mind and da WEAKNESS of your victims. But ... you look like you might already know dat, no?"

Roseanne sniffs and offers a wry grin, "Perhaps."

The woman nods. "My name's Oba. Been shut in here for a few bad checks."

Roseanne looks at her for a moment then gets up, walking up to the bars. "My name's Roseanne. I'm in here for a few bad ... kidnappings. Actually, only one."

"Don't tell me, da victim got away..."

Roseanne laughs a little at the remark, at the whole situation. "Yeah, she did. Got away with ... everything. Got away with my partner's heart, got away with his sympathy, got away with making sure I'll stay in here for the rest of my child-bearing years."

Oba stands at the bars, holding them, taking in Roseanne, seeing a skinny young girl with similar khaki pants and a Llanview-inmate tee-shirt, a girl failing at her efforts to affect the world around her.

"Have you shared your desires, your _feelings_ , wit' your chosen person?" Oba asks.

"Sure ... for all the good it did me. You think my threats are going to shake up her perfect views of everything? Fat chance."

"Really? How you know dat?"

"Because her children were born. They were born and survived being premature ... because she and her convicted-rapist husband are livin' large, free and clear, without pain, without suffering, without ..." Roseanne shakes her head in building aggravation. "...Whatever."

"'Dis woman...what she do to you?"

Roseanne starts to immediately answer, then thinks about it...and shrugs. "To me? Nothing, really."

Oba crinkles her brow, eyes hard. "'Den, why you go after her like dat?"

Roseanne stares back at her, squinting, starting to feel like she's being poked at under a microscope. "Well, now. THAT would be none of YOUR business."

Oba grins, then breaks out into a laugh, nodding, conceding. "Ah... _tres_ _bien_..." she starts, then wraps her hands around the bars again. "...well, don't be so sure of your failures, cher'. What you see is not necessarily what IS."

Roseanne takes that in, then laughs too, a little. "I like your confidence."

Oba smiles, one full of confidence, assuredness. Power. "Now why don't you tell me what it is you're lookin' for and maybe I can help you wit' your ... _desires_."

"Why would you wanna do that? You don't even know me."

Oba shrugs slightly. "True, I don't. But you seem to need my help and I appear to have plenty of time. I like a challenge."

Roseanne grins back, a new energy in her heart, in her mind. A new possibility ...

* * *

Téa rocks little Evan in her arms, swaddled tightly, her eyes furrowed in worry. Brendan is sleeping in his cradle upstairs, the monitor blinking healthfully on the coffee table in front of her, no sound coming out of it, signifying that her other little angel is peaceful. Todd is upstairs doing something ... but whatever it is ... he's quiet, too. And although the penthouse is serene, Téa feels anything _but_ calm.

The dream she had the other night haunts her still ... the vision of Todd pounding at the bathroom door while her sons cowered behind it, calling for her, is too much. It was pure evil she'd heard in his voice in that dream, pure evil she'd seen as he tried to break his way through the door to get to the boys ... to hurt them.

"Ridiculous..." Téa says softly to herself, as she gazes at her sleeping baby. "He's a wonderful father, too scarred to ever do anything like that. He's never been anything but devoted and dedicated and gentle with Starr. I'm being stupid. Maybe ... I'm reflecting ... projecting … hormones still out of whack."

She jumps when she feels a hand on her shoulder, quickly realizing it's Todd. She doesn't see the passing look of hurt on his face at her being startled. "Sorry," she blurts, " ... I was ... zoning."

"It's late. Why don't you head to bed and I'll handle the little monsters?"

"They're not monsters," Téa snaps.

Todd freezes at her sharpness, his tease vanishing. "What was THAT? What's going on with you?"

She knows she's revealed too much so she tries her best to look like she has no idea what he's talking about. He kneels down in front of her. "You've been looking at me weird all day ... like I'm a ghost or something. What's the deal?"

"Nothing. Maybe it's postpartum depression. You know ... hormones."

"So you ARE looking at me weird."

"No, no, _amor,_ I'm just ... cranky, that's all. Stressed. Haven't had much sleep."

Todd nods slowly, though he's not entirely convinced that she's telling all there is to tell. He sits next to her in the other rocker and studies her face as she concentrates on smoothing out Evan's hair.

"Look, I've ... um ... kind of been where you are," he says. She looks up at him, and he really notices how tired she is. Her eyes ... which usually shine brightly with energy, are dim and heavy-lidded. He rocks forward in the chair, leaning on his knees. "You know, recovering from something ... really shitty. For a long time, everyone was my tormentor. I saw my father in everybody, in my teachers, in the bigger guys on the football team, in the clerks in a store who didn't look at me right." He sighed, paused. Obviously about to day something difficult. "I even saw him in the women I raped, in total strangers that I perceived as a threat to me ... in any way whatsoever ..."

Téa blinks slowly, taking that in, rubbing Evan's little hand wrapped around her finger as he sleeps. She watches Todd rub his lips together - nervously - understandably.

"... so I guess if you see ME like that, like some kind of ... _tormentor_ ... or an enemy ... I-I would understand," he finishes, his voice having dwindled to a bare whisper. He twitches a little, pained from the effort, from the cut inside of him that comes from mentioning his father, from giving Peter any thought at all. He sits there, quickly going over his history in his mind, such a rotten history... including and especially his history with Téa.

 _It would be understandable,_ he thinks ... it would make sense if she feels that way, like he was ... a tormentor.

Téa reaches out to him, gently placing a hand on his knee. "Todd...that's not it at all," she urges, trying to object but the truth is, ever since that dream, she finds herself looking at him and imagining his features twisting into that ugly, angry, hateful face he can make. She can picture it so easily. And of course, it isn't just creative thinking, it's memory.

 _Memory of every horrible thing he's done to her throughout their time together… so far._

Téa shakes her head like she is trying to clear it. She looks at Todd, and through the brown strands of his long hair, she can see an injured expression, the worry. Shame. Slowly, carefully, so as not to disturb Evan or startle Todd, she touches the side of his face ... and does her usual thing, her favorite show of affection ... she pushes his hair behind his ear and says in the softest voice she can muster, "I love you, so very much. I'm incredibly thankful that we're here ... that we made it, y'know? That we're here, together, in our house, in our own little world ... with our new babies. They're so beautiful ... and I see YOU in them and if I saw you as a tormentor, then ... wouldn't I be afraid of THEM, too?"

 _Lawyer logic ..._ Todd shrugs one shoulder, shaking his head slightly, telling Téa that he wasn't all that convinced.

She finishes her thought, "I would definitely be afraid. But I don't see that in them ... and I don't see you that way, either."

"Would you tell me if you did?" he asks right back, turning toward her. She hesitates and he catches it, shaking his head again. "Doesn't matter. Never mind - don't worry about it, Delgado. Here, let me take Evan." With a burdened sigh, he gets up and takes the boy gently from Téa's arms, smiling slightly at his baby, automatically doing that ... and whispers under his breath as he heads toward the stairs. "Don't wake up, little guy ... shhh ..."

Téa leans back into the cushions, feeling like crap for making him feel bad ... and just feeling like crap overall. She shuts her eyes, tightly, shaking her head, yelling at herself in her mind... _what the hell is the matter with you? How could you do that ... it was JUST A DREAM...a stupid dream ... and YOU'RE being stupid, too ..._

The phone interrupts her self-chastisement and she reaches over to pick it up. Expecting Carlotta, she says, "They're fine, they're both fine and they're both actually sleeping at the same time."

A male voice responds with, "And I couldn't be happier."

Téa's mouth falls open in instant recognition and she lets out a hard breath. It takes a few seconds before she can even say anything. When she regains herself a few seconds later, she says, "The police are looking for you, you know. This phone might be tapped."

On the other end, Dean Shelton examines a fingernail as he stands at a payphone, somewhere ... else. "Eh, let 'em ... it's not like they're gonna find me anyhow."

She swallows hard, his voice confusing her ... his easy confidence just the same as when he held her captive… and when he saved her. She hears him and pictures him simultaneously, and it fills her with fear ... but also an equal amount of relief. She can practically hear him smile, she can envision that one crooked tooth of his, those piercing blue eyes of his. He'd saved her from those bastards in the abandoned building, had saved her from losing the twins at their hands, had saved her from Roseanne's further cruelty, had ... just saved her, period.

"What do you want?" she asks quietly, her own voice strained with mixed emotion.

"I don't know. Just to hear that you're okay, I guess."

 _Still trying to save me,_ she thinks, as a tear leaks out. She rolls her eyes upward to keep more of them from leaking out. "Well, don't concern yourself, okay? I'm FINE ... and YOU ... you have to stop doing this. Please ... just ... leave me alone."

Dean grips the phone, hearing the stress in her voice, the strain. He still worries about her. "Téa, you're not fine, I can tell. Talk to me."

In a flash of temper and anxiety, she gets up and looks toward the stairs, making sure Todd isn't on his way down. Then she whirls around, whispering loudly into the phone. "You listen to me. I ... I will always be grateful for what you did for me, alright? But that's where it ends. You don't know me, and I don't WANT to get to know you. Now you've got it good ... you even said, nobody's gonna find you. So don't screw it up now by thinking that you have to ... take care of me, or something. I do have a husband."

Dean sighs at that, unable to respond.

Téa tosses another glance up the stairs, hearing movement, then she leans into the phone again. "I'm hanging up now. DON'T call here again ... I mean it."

With that, she shuts off the phone and throws it down on the couch. She closes her eyes, trying to understand herself, trying to understand what is happening to her mind.

 _Hormones ... that's what it is ... it's gotta be. Postpartum depression. Just like she said. That's what they call this, right? And it's serious, an illness that can drive women to murder their own children… their OWN precious children ..._

With her teeth, she clenches down on her lower lip to stop herself from crying again. Why ... _WHY_ did she feel these feelings for a man who nearly ruined her life, forever? _My god!_ Dean had drugged her, stuffed her in a trunk, tied her to a chair, held her for ransom ... and here she is, having worse thoughts about her own husband, who, she suddenly remembers, did some of the same things to her.

 _Oh, god ... WHAT is the matter with me ...?_

She sinks down on the couch, burying her face in her hands, trying to keep her wits about her, her head throbbing with stress and anxiety. Earlier that afternoon, she had been napping out of pure exhaustion. She awakened momentarily to the sight of Todd fussing over Brendan. She watched him change the little tee-shirt on that tiny body, and he was so gentle, so afraid to hurt the baby, it was almost heartbreaking. He didn't want to wake Evan, didn't want to wake Téa ... and didn't want to disrupt Brendan's surprisingly quiet acceptance of the process. And at the very end, when that tee-shirt made it all the way on, when the blanket got replaced, Todd smiled like a kid and kissed the top of Brendan's head. And when he kissed his boy, Todd looked like a true father, a person every man would want to be.

It is at that moment that she realizes something, a poetic observance. She sees that Evan is like her in his touchiness, his hating things to be out of order, in his demand for things to happen _now,_ in his delicacy. And Brendan, on the other hand, is more like Todd in his stoic tolerance of discomfort, in his strength. Yes, even at this early stage, the traits are evident; and the more she thinks about it, the more sure she is of this reflection.

She herself had been a sickly baby, her brothers used to say ... so it makes sense that one of the boys might inherit that. Evan is the more fragile of the twins; the one needing more. And Todd ... well, Téa always imagined the kind of child he must have been ... abused, yes, but strong, a survivor, always on the lookout. He had turned the abuse he endured back onto society. He hadn't shriveled beneath it. He had used it-poorly, maybe-but he'd used it nevertheless. And she kind of sees that in Brendan. Even though he is only weeks old, there have already been moments where he's shown a cutting awareness of his surroundings, of his world. Just like Todd, who could walk into a situation and know what's what immediately, Brendan always seems to know when ... and when not ... to make a ruckus. There were times when Evan would be screaming his lungs out, and she would naturally check on Brendan to make sure Evan's crying wasn't upsetting him and there he'd be, eyeing her right back. Big gray eyes she suspected would turn hazel soon looking about, almost as if he were telling her to get on with the chore of shutting his brother up, and patiently waiting for his turn to belt out his hunger, or wetness or need for a hug. Absorbing the discomfort, waiting to use it when it would best benefit him. Granted, patience isn't Todd's strongest suit, but it is Brendan's _awareness_ that strikes Téa because _that_ is Todd.

And then a horrible thought creeps in ... a little slithering, snaky thought. That if they were abused, Evan wouldn't make it ... but Brendan would.

 _God ..._ she shivers and shuts her eyes, opening them to Todd's bounding down the stairs, mumbling something about a disaster at the Sun. Her thoughts fade away at seeing his flying hair, his manic energy.

"I have to run," he says, "I just called over to the Sun and ... Jesus ... something happened with the press, and we're going to be late ... and ... anyway ... you want me to call Carlotta? You really can't be alone here."

She smiles at him, as best she can, with all the crazy thoughts running around in her head. "No, I'll be fine," she says ... then with his help, drags her tired self off the rocker. He stands in front of her and very carefully, leans in and kisses her lips lightly. She can feel the worry that he's carrying, she can feel it in his kiss.

"I love you, Delgado..." he whispers. "...I just do."

"I know ... I love you, too," she whispers back, moving in for another kiss. She relishes the warmth of it, letting him linger, letting him be affectionate. But when she opens her eyes in the middle of their connection, she is surprised to see steely, cold eyes looking at her, too. Eyes full of suspicion rather than love, full of _... what?_

She pulls back, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answers, his expression softening. "Who called?" She blinks at that, then shrugs, quickly, covering.

"Oh...Carlotta ... checking up on us ... then someone else called on the other line, one of those aggravating sales people."

 _There it is ... that awareness,_ Téa thinks, Todd's constant awareness, his radar for danger, for things amiss that might lead to his or his family's getting hurt. Looking out for something to use. He and Brendan will probably be quite a team when he gets older, Brendan as Todd's lookout, the one who will keep an eye on things, who will call it like it is, who will see through lies ...

 _Assuming your husband is still around, mija._

Todd makes a little 'hmm' sound, distracting her from her thoughts. He leans in and kisses her lightly again. "Call me if ANYTHING happens. I'm turning on the alarm."

"I'll be fine, really."

"Yeah, well... that's what you said last time I left you alone." She sighs, rubbing his arm gently. "Todd...nothing is going to happen, okay? D-... Shelton's not stupid. He's not gonna risk coming here, or anywhere near us."

Todd glances down for a moment then back up at her. "Yeah, but he's still OUT there ... and that ... makes me nervous. Doesn't it make YOU nervous?"

"Well...yeah, of course it does but ... we have a burglar alarm ... we have that guard out on the street ... we're fine. He'll never get to us again."

Todd lingers on her face for a moment ... beautiful but exhausted. Not wanting to upset her with more Shelton talk, he simply nods, letting it drop. He releases her, offers plain words of parting. He turns and heads towards the front door, punching in the code to the alarm. He steps out, taking one last expressionless glance at Téa. She smiles, waving ... then he shuts the door.

Alone in the living room, Téa sighs. She _is_ tired, tired of her fears, of her nervousness. Slowly she makes her way to bed, desperately hoping for a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep.

* * *

Todd never goes to the Sun offices because there is no emergency.

Instead, he drives straight toward Club Indigo to get together with RJ Gannon. Since Shelton's escape, RJ has had some people looking out for Shelton; he's bugged the telephones at the penthouse, and has tracers on the cell phones, all at Todd's request, and all, a secret from Téa. As it was during and after the kidnapping, both of them are bound and determined to protect her and to track that fuck, Shelton, down and then make sure he never gets out of Statesville again.

The club itself is hopping and Todd forces his way through the touchy crowd until he hits the bar. He puts some money down and asks for his usual shot of whiskey, looking around for RJ, but not seeing him. The bartender recognizes him and leans in.

"Looking for RJ?"

Todd squints at him ... then nods. "Yeah...he around?"

"He's in the back," the guy says. "Hold on, I'll get him. Bartender leaves the bar for a second to duck into the back office. Todd sits down on the bar stool, taking a deep breath and downing the shot. He leans over the bar and grabs the whiskey bottle, pouring another shot in his glass.

In the back office, RJ sits at a desk, with a tiny earpiece on, listening to the phone conversations from that day. He jots down a few notes, then his face suddenly changes as he listens to the last call. _MotherFUCK._ He ignores the knock at the door, pushing the earpiece in deeper to hear more clearly. The bartender finally pushes the door open a crack, poking his head in.

"Boss..." RJ holds up a hand, still listening. Bartender waits a second, as RJ finishes, tugging on the wire and yanking the ear piece out. He tosses it down on the desk, then looks up at his bartender. "What?" he asks, annoyed.

"That Manning guy's outside lookin' for you," the bartender answers, then closes the door.

RJ falls back in the chair, shaking his head angrily at what he just heard. He stays there for a moment, trying to cool off before going out to face Todd. Finally, he gets up, brushing his jacket off, and heads out into the club. Todd spots him and stands up, leaning on the bar.

RJ nods at him. " 'Sup, man?" he says slickly, shaking Todd's hand and giving his upper arm a warm slap.

"What do you have?" Todd asks, downing the next shot that the bartender just poured for him. Third one's a charm.

"Nothin' yet but I do have a name. One of Shelton's old buddies, a Kyle Johanson. He might know something ..."

"Where is this guy?"

"San Quentin."

Todd rolls his eyes. "What a surprise."

"It's okay. One of my guys is gonna pay him a little visit." RJ then glances away, uncomfortable, because he's holding out, because he's _not_ telling Todd something _very_ important that he just heard. The phone call Shelton made to Téa. He bites his lip, knowing there's no way he can say anything about it until he speaks to Téa, personally. Because although the two men have reached a sort-of friendship, RJ's loyalties lie with Téa, first, foremost, and always. Besides, this info is too dangerous , too provocative to give to Todd right now. Oh hell no. RJ notes Manning's nervous energy, reminding him that the guy has a hard enough time keeping his cool when shit is NOT happening. And nobody needs _that_ right now ... just not the time.

Not yet, anyway.

Finally, RJ grins widely and pats Todd on the shoulder, evoking a scowl from him.

"Take it easy, ma' brother" RJ purrs. "Shelton won't be on the run long. Trust me."

Todd studies him for a moment then relaxes a little, growls, "Damn straight."

As soon as Téa hits the sheets, she falls into a deep sleep, the blankness of it welcomed by her, the absence of thought, treasured. The smells of baby lotion, powder, diapers, of soft new skin, accompany her rapid fall. The sounds of Brendan's and Evan's gentle breaths soothe her descent. And when she hits that space, that wonderful place of rest, she can hear chimes, the music of lullabies, a woman's voice singing the verses. So sweet, so wonderful, she's been so tired …

* * *

As the last lights go out on the women's cellblock, Roseanne knows what she wants. She wants revenge, pain for the "blessed one" and the best way for that happen is through the baby boy angels, through their eyes, through their hearts. So Roseanne does what her new-found friend told her ...

She prays. She gets on her knees in the cold jail cell and looks to the dark heavens for the answer, for her resolution. She takes deep, deep breaths, concentrating, calling out to a dark force using only her mind, only her determination, to envision her curse, to breathe life into it. And the words come out smoothly, easily, in a song-like prayer, like a lullaby.

"Sleep, Angels ... sleep in your little beds ... sleep with the moon above you ... with the stars ... next to you ..."

* * *

In her sleep, Téa smiles at the picture of her sweet babies in their swinging cradles hanging beneath a full, bright Puerto Rican moon, beneath Puerto Rican stars, beneath the swaying leaves of gentle beach trees. The breeze is soothing and Téa can hear a dove-like lullaby, the cradles still rocking in the gentlest way…

 _"... don't you worry about the night ... don't you worry about the dark ... because you are watched ..."_

As Téa looks over her shoulder in that dream, as she looks across the empty night-covered beach, she sees something coming towards her, sees someone approaching her. It is so comforting, the sight, and she waves, running towards the person, calling out to whom it must be…

 _"Abuelita! Come! Ven aqui! Mis hijos! You must see them!"_

The person has a light about them. Téa can't see the face but the steady walk, the aura of experience, of practiced existence, convinces Téa it is her grandmother.

 _"You have to come!"_ Téa calls out, moving closer to the person, moving easily across the sand. Gliding almost. _"Abuelita!"_

 _"...don't you cry at the moon, little Angels, don't you cry at the darkness ... for it can only harm you up close and now it's far ..._

 _...don't you cry at the light, little Angels ... for it will only make you sleep ... it's the heat of truth you must run from ... it's the heat of truth ... sleep now, little Angels... for the sleep of death awaits you ... at the hands of love..."_

As the person approaches, as Téa gets closer, her excitement begins to fade. As the person comes into clearer view, her eyes widen in terror ... because it _isn't_ her grandmother coming for the children ...

... it is the Devil ... and he is dressed in black, with a long, flowing coat and behind him is the fire of Hell, lighting his path ... and all she can see are the gleaming teeth behind his grin ... and she screams out …

 _"NOOOO! YOU STAY AWAY FROM THEM! NOOOO!"_

Her heart is in her throat and she tries to run to the babies, tries to reach them in their cradles but the sand catches her feet and she can't run. The sand seems to grip her feet, her ankles, and hold her in place. She has no energy either, her desperate efforts are doing nothing ... and behind her, the Devil laughs ... calling out for the children …

 _"Here I am ... here I am..."_ It is sing-song and it sounds so familiar _... so ... familiar …_

 _"...here I am, Angels... come to Papa ..."_

Téa screams again and tries to reach the children .mbut they seem to only get farther away from her and the Devil is only getting closer. And the babies are crying now, both of them, crying hard. Téa screams again and falls, smashing into the sand as she reaches for Brendan and Evan but the breeze kicks up loose sand into her eyes. And when she hears the Devil's voice again, she knows who it is ... she knows the black clothes and the grin that twists his features into an ugly ... violent ... face of hatred.

 _"...here I am, my babies. Here I am. Papa loves you ... don't be afraid, don't be afraid to sleep..."_

 _"TODD! OH MY GOD! NOOOOOO!"_

Téa screams again with everything she has and as she feels herself sinking into the sand, into darkness, she catches one last glimpse of him…

...and he has gotten to them. He has gotten to her angels, to her precious, innocent ... angels. He's gotten them by their little necks, one in each fist.

* * *

Todd fights Téa's clawing hands, but he continues to hold her, to try to assure her that everything is alright. "Tea! It's me! It's okay! It's just me!"

"NOOOO! STAY AWAY!" Téa is near-hysterical as she flails against him. Her face is wet with tears and Todd is truly afraid for her. And it is because of that fear, perhaps against his better judgment, that he maintains a tight grip on her.

"TÉA! WAKE UP!"

Finally, she gasps and wakes up, her eyes searching wildly around the room. When she sees him, she only looks more fearful and he lets go of her quickly. She hops out of the bed but the children are gone, the bassinets are gone and she swings around, again, with complete terror.

"WHERE ARE THEY?! WHAT DID YOU DO WITH THEM!"

"They're in the other room! I moved them when I saw you were getting so upset ... you were screaming! I moved them so they wouldn't-"

Téa flies out of the room before he can finish and runs down the hall, bursts into their room, into the peaceful sanctuary of the nursery, lit by a revolving night light and with her hand over her mouth, with her shaking body, she sees they are sleeping soundly in their bassinets. Not crying ... not missing ... not hurt. They'd just been moved is all. Todd had moved them, just like he said. She listens for their breaths and they are breathing … softly, peacefully. She cries into her hands and turns back around, easing the door closed. She walks back down the hall, unsteady on her feet, her shoulders shaking from her silent crying. She sees Todd standing outside the bedroom door at a complete loss, still in his long, flowing coat, still in his dark clothes. She lets out a frightened breath, glancing away from him ... shutting her eyes to get the horrible images out of her mind. Then after a moment, she walks over to him.

She raises her eyes to him and chokes out, "I'm sorry ... I just had such a horrible dream ... I'm so sorry ..."

Todd watches her carefully and sees that she is starting to settle down, a little. He takes a half-step toward her, hands out, in a calming gesture. "Hey ... it's alright, it's okay ... I know what those dreams can be like, I know. But… I'm, I'm worried about you. I thought you'd gotten better … you haven't. This is all because of that bastard, Shelton, I just know it."

Téa can see that he really is worried. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't touch her and for a while, they stand apart like that. Finally, Tea takes a long, deep breath, letting it out slowly, blowing through parted lips like when she practiced Lamaze, before she knew she'd have a c-section delivery. It sends a wave of calm through her and that gives her a little strength. Then she looks back at him, wiping tears away. She reaches for him and gently clasps his hands with hers.

Todd feels her grip, light at first, then it tightens. He holds her hands tightly in his now.

She looks at his long hair, seeing the bare beginnings of silver. They're not close to forty so she knows the gray is stress, knows his hard life is causing that early change... and then she looks at the black coat that hangs near to the floor. If he stood on the sands of a beach ... on a dark, Puerto Rican beach, a moon overhead, the coat would separate and flow behind him. But the image fades. She doesn't see him that way, she no longer sees the horrible demon …

... she just sees him. The man she loves, has always loved, will always love, and it brings tears to her eyes, tears of anger at herself, tears of confusion.

 _Why ... WHY am I so afraid that he is going to hurt the children? It makes no sense!_

She moves close to him, whispering as she wraps his arms around her, and cries into his shoulder, "Oh, Todd ... I'm so sorry ... I don't know what's wrong with me ... I feel like I'm losing my mind ..."

He shuts his eyes at that, hugging her to him and as he holds her tightly in his arms, she cries openly.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Delgado... it's just a dream, that's all," he whispers into her hair. Just a dream ... a nightmare ... but what the hell kind of nightmare was _that?_ What is she seeing to make her panic and why it all about the boys now? The nightmares she had before were related to the kidnapping, what had happened to her. But now, she is dreaming about their kids, having nightmares about something bad happening to _them._ It's gotta be because they just got home. Gotta be.

He stares blankly ahead of him, stares at the children's room and doesn't know what to do. He knows something is terribly wrong and as he tries to comfort her, he realizes he's as scared as she is.

* * *

Roseanne gets up off her knees and stretches her muscles, stretches her whole body and smiles broadly, feeling so good, so cleansed. She runs her hands over her body and closes her eyes blissfully, sighing satisfactorily. She has no idea if her curses are working but at the moment, it doesn't matter. It was a glorious, incredible prayer ... a perfect ... perfect night of devotion.

Lying on her bunk in the dark, Oba steps up to the bars of her cell, smiling. "Ah…, " Oba whispers knowingly, feeling the energy from Roseanne, even at such a distance. "... So ... whatchu tink now, cher'? You tink you need candles?"

Roseanne smiles even wider, whispering back to her new friend. "Thank you, Oba."

"I told you...de forces are always there… within you ... above you … all around...all de time."

Roseanne nods, knowing it now ... feeling it. "Yeah ... I think you're right."

 **To be continued...**


	4. Chapter 4

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 4**

 _"...don't you cry at the moon, little Angels, don't you cry at the darkness ... for it can only harm you up close and now it's far ..._

 _Don't you cry at the light, little Angels ... for it will only make you sleep ... it's the heat of truth you must run from ... it's the heat of truth ... sleep now, little Angels ... for the sleep of death awaits you ... at the hands of love ..."_

Carlotta steps off the elevator, walking up to the door of the penthouse, trying to shift the big load she's carrying to knock but it doesn't work, and she ends up kicking the door instead.

After a moment, Todd answers and the two of them stare at each other uncomfortably for a second, as they always do. Finally, he notices the bags in her hands and starts taking them from her.

"Hey… c'mon in," he says.

She smiles politely, stepping inside and looking around, as only a mother-in-law-type would, like she is inspecting the place. Carlotta's brow creases as she examines the familiar setting. All is the same, lovelier with baby stuff, except she notices something indefinable in the air, a mood or a tension. Nothing she can put her finger on. She shakes away the nagging concern as Todd starts for the kitchen with the bags.

"So what's the damage on all this?"

"Oh," she replies, turning and following him, digging for the receipt in her purse as she enters the kitchen. "Just throw me a hundred, that'll be fine."

Todd plunks the bags down, some of them falling over, spilling their contents out ... mostly cans of formula. Carlotta starts picking them all up as he opens his wallet for the money. "Hey listen ... thanks ... I know you don't exactly have tons of cash to pay for all this. It's just that-"

She waves a hand in response, shaking her head. "It's all right, I know you don't have time to go grocery shopping." He hands her the bills and she takes them, pocketing them. "So where are those beautiful boys hiding? I've been dying to see them again."

Todd grins a little then tips his head toward the door. "Téa's with them upstairs. Go ahead, I got this."

Carlotta smiles and heads upstairs. As she gets closer to the master bedroom, she hears the babies making happy, unintelligible noises. She steps to the door quietly, peeking through the crack before she knocks. She sees Téa, lying on the bed in sloppy clothes, on her side, with the boys laid out in front of her, squirming and kicking happily. Téa smiles broadly, making goofy faces at them both, playing with their tiny hands and feet. Carlotta watches her a moment, touched, relieved to see her surrogate daughter so peaceful, so happy, dispelling her earlier concerns. She remembers back over the years, to the many times she doubted that Téa would ever get to this place in her life. _But there she is_. She knocks on the door, stepping inside.

Téa looks up and smiles, a tired one, but still nice to see.

"Hi, _mija_ ," Carlotta says gently. "How are you?"

Téa sits up, sighing contentedly, "I'm good...come say hi." She pulls Carlotta down on the bed with her. Brendan and Evan turn their heads to look at Carlotta who smiles big and wide, bending down to kiss them both.

"Ohhhhh ... there's my guys! Gimme a kiss!" she gushes, in between sloppy kisses. She picks up Evan, lifting him up, and he looks down at her, with a wide open mouth, legs kicking. She lowers him, and seats him on her lap, cradling him. Téa scoops Brendan up, doing the same thing, so that both women and both boys are facing each other. Carlotta plays with Evan's little hand, looking up at Téa.

"You should be set for a while, I think. I bought tons of formula, tons of diapers."

Téa laughs a little, sighing.

"Oh thank you. I really appreciate it. Can't seem to get outta this house long enough to do anything productive."

"Well, why would you wanna go anywhere? If I were you I'd stay home with these guys all day, too," she says, nuzzling Evan's fine hair.

Téa smiles. "So ... you leave Todd with the groceries?"

"He told me to come on up," Carlotta replies. She pauses before letting Téa in on her thoughts. "You know ... I'm really surprised by him. He's gotten so ..." she starts, trailing off.

Téa waits for the rest, then decides to finish for her. "Mellow?"

Carlotta nods, eyes wide. "Yeah! I mean, I'm not complaining, it's great. I only wish..."

Téa's smile fades, knowing what Carlotta is going to say and it reminds her of the dreams she's been having, the ones she'd been working so hard all morning to forget.

Carlotta shrugs, looking down at Evan as she continues. "I wish he hadn't wasted so much time being so ... I don't know. Anyway... it doesn't matter now."

Téa smooths Brendan's hair, soothingly. "He's a good father, Carlotta. He loves the kids more than anything."

"He was always good with Starr."

Téa smiles at the mention of her stepdaughter, at the lovely young lady she's become. Then her thoughts drift to that last awful dream. She closes her eyes, sighing, wondering if there is anything she can do to purge it from her mind. It just won't leave. Silently, she picks up Brendan, laying him on her shoulder as she gets up and starts walking him, rubbing his back gently. Carlotta picks up Evan, standing up.

"You okay?"

She turns around, nodding absent-mindedly. "Yeah, fine. Just tired, y'know."

Carlotta nods, beginning to feel that concern again, that "mother's intuition" pecking at her as Evan starts fussing, squirming unhappily because he can't see his mother. Téa immediately walks over to tend to him.

"Oh, Ev..." she sighs. "...here, can you take Brendan? C'mere, bean-and-cheese...fussy little thing."

"What?" Carlotta asks with a laugh, as they switch loads. Brendan settles into her arms, quietly, without a sound, just looking up at her. Téa laughs back as she puts Evan on her shoulder who quiets down as soon as he's in his mother's arms. "Oh, it's a long silly story, but that's his nickname...bean-and-cheese...y'know, burrito."

Carlotta gives her the strangest look and Téa giggles a little harder, patting Evan's back. "Basically, all I ever wanted when I was pregnant was Taco Bell. So we just came up with the names...especially when we first got them home, and they were all wrapped up in those blankets...they looked like burritos. So, Evan's bean-and-cheese, and Brendan's big-beef." Still chuckling, Téa knows how goofy it sounds.

Carlotta looks down at Brendan, who reaches up to swat at her nose with a flailing arm. She laughs, bouncing him gently. "Ohhhh...big beef, huh? Sounds manly. That mean you're the tough one?"

Téa smiles, nodding, "Yeah...that's exactly what it means. He's quiet, hardly makes a sound...not really fussy at all. Not like bean-and-cheese over here," she says, nuzzling Evan's neck.

"They show their personalities early, don't they?" Carlotta replies. "...it was like that with Cris and 'Tonio. Even when they were babies, they were pretty much the same."

"Oh, please...they're ALWAYS gonna be babies to you," Téa says, teasingly.

Carlotta does a slight take then nods to the undeniable truth. "Well ... these guys are always gonna be babies to YOU, so ... so there."

Téa smiles warmly, liking the idea of being a mom to men with their own babies, their own families.

Both women then turn to look at Todd walking into the bedroom, babies in their arms. "Jeez, it's like the mommy convention in here," he mutters, as he walks over to Téa.

She gazes up at him expectantly. "What's up?"

"Gotta head to the office for a while ... then pick up Starr," he says quickly, getting in close, by her ear, lightly nuzzling the loose strands of her hair. Téa turns her head toward him as she sways back and forth with Evan. Carlotta watches them interact with a little smile, amazed at how the sparks still fly between them, even after everything. She grins wider, then turns away with Brendan, giving them a little privacy.

Téa looks up at him, touching her nose to his. "... 'kay...I'll see you later," she whispers.

"You gonna be okay?" he asks.

She smiles back, nodding, "'Course, yeah. Carlotta's here...and the guys are pretty easy right now, so...we're good."

He looks down at her, their faces just an inch or so apart. He breathes her in and suddenly wishes they were alone. Feels a surprising flush of real heat. He caresses her cheek, realizing this is the first time since the babies came home that he's thinking these things, thinking about touching her, holding her naked body to his. He swallows hard, hearing his own rough breath. Even yesterday when he kissed her, he hadn't thought about taking her to bed. They are too busy, too tired, to pay much attention to anything but the boys. Téa rubs her nose against his and he curses softly under his breath.

"Go on," she says, "... we'll see you in a while."

He leans in to kiss her, and she closes her eyes as their lips make contact. Everything around them seems to vanish for a moment as they both get drawn deeper into the kiss, lingering. Téa sucks on his fleshy bottom lip, gently, remembering too, how long it's been since they made love. A tiny sigh escapes her mouth as she wishes they were alone, too. Then suddenly, as it had been doing all day, the horrible image from her dream snaps to the front of her mind…

...of the demon in the long dark coat...the demon that took her children…

...the demon...that was Todd.

The memory of it forces her eyes open and she pulls back, abruptly severing their connection, ruining the moment. Todd opens his eyes, surprised, as she turns her head away, wiping her mouth. He stands there for a second, looking at her with a confused expression. She glances back at him, guiltily, then takes a step away, unconsciously placing a protective hand on Evan's head.

Carlotta turns back around just in time to see the obvious change in mood between them. It's apparent that something is wrong now. She sways back and forth with Brendan, watching them communicating silently.

Téa finally sighs. "Uh...don't forget to pick up some dinner," she says, avoiding his eyes because she feels them piercing into her, searching. Todd huffs, about to say something but then Carlotta clears her throat and he flashes a glance at her like he suddenly remembers she's there. His mouth closes tight and he returns a hard look at Téa, frustrated now because they can't talk about this. So, lip twitching at the corner, he sniffs loudly... and reaches out to touch Evan's little head. He nods at Carlotta...then with one more lingering look at Téa, he turns and leaves.

A definite cold air remains in his place.

Carlotta watches Téa who seems to stay frozen in place... until they hear the door open and close downstairs. Then she lets out a long, deep, stress-filled breath, turning around with Evan to face Carlotta ... and finds another pair of piercing eyes. She does a slight take before turning her attention to Evan. Carlotta walks past her to the bassinets and gently sets Brendan down in his. She rubs his tummy soothingly, then turns back to look at Téa, a hand on her hip.

"Wanna tell me what that was about?"

Téa lets her head drop, resting on Evan's. She hugs him tightly, kissing his fine spray of brownish hair and sets him down too. She lingers on her boys for a moment, just taking in the sight of them, lying there quietly _... safe._ She smiles sadly ... then looks at Carlotta.

"What are you talking about?"

" _Mija_ ... I could feel the temperature drop in here. What's wrong?"

Téa stares at her, debating, honestly not sure if her nightmares, her fears, if they're something anyone else should be hearing about. She lets out another deep breath, waving a hand like she was swatting at a bug. "Oh ... it's just me, y'know ... I've been really moody since I came home. I feel bad, 'cause I don't mean to ... be _cold_ , but I ... I can't help it," she says, settling for telling her a half-truth.

Carlotta nods, thinking she understands, hoping she does. "Hmmm…. it's hard on the men in the months after the baby. I remember… the hormones are so out of control for a while," she says, rubbing her arm soothingly. "...but it's okay, it'll pass. You'll feel more like yourself again soon. Just takes time."

Téa shrugs, walking over to the table next to the boys' cradles to turn on the baby monitor. She checks on them one more time, making sure they're okay. Evan has already drifted off, a hand draped lazily by his head. Brendan just stares up at her, blinking, keeping the watch, as usual. Téa smiles at him, shaking her head ... then she kisses her finger and touches his nose.

"Don't look so worried, O wise one," she says gently, then turns away and looks back at Carlotta. "I could really use some coffee right now," she says, taking her hand and leading her out of the room ... closing the door partway. The two women walk downstairs, into the kitchen. Téa eases herself into one of the chairs, but then starts realizing she's made it appear as if she expects Carlotta to get the coffee.

"Here, relax ... I'll get it."

"Carlotta ..." Téa protests. "You wait on people all damn day. I can get it. Really. I am mobile, ya' know."

Carlotta just waves her off, already halfway through the process of getting the coffeemaker going. She grabs two mugs out of the cupboard and sits down, finally relaxing. She reaches out, wrapping a hand around Téa's hand. "Listen...I need to tell you something."

Téa raises her brows, waiting.

"Um… I got a letter the other day… from Roseanne."

Téa's features shift instantly, bracing, eyebrows lifting again, but says nothing.

Carlotta pats her hand. "I know. I was surprised she even bothered. Last time I saw her, I made it very clear I didn't want to have anything more to do with her."

Téa studies Carlotta a moment before realizing what the real story is. "You're gonna go see her, aren't you?"

Carlotta opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. She doesn't deny it.

The shock of this is overwhelming. And _oh my god,_ it feels like a betrayal, a horrific stab in the back. Out of an ancient respect for her friend, Téa restrains herself, lingering on her guilty face then snaps, "Do me a favor."

Carlotta nods, waiting. Apology is all over her but it doesn't make a dent into this ripping apart of loyalties. Téa leans in a little closer. "Don't tell her anything about the boys. Not their names, not what they look like, or what they eat, or the kind of diapers they wear. She wanted them dead before they were even born, that _bitch_..."

Carlotta drops her head, at the understandable rage...then looks back up at her as Téa continues.

"Roseanne and I...we are NOT family...not anymore. So I don't care WHAT she says, you don't tell her ANYTHING about my sons. Do you understand me?" she asks, her eyes full of fierce protectiveness.

Carlotta's features crumple with empathy, rubbing the top of Téa's hand gently. "I'm sorry, I hadn't really decided what I was gonna do, but… if I DO go—"

"Why would you go?!"

"Compassion?" Carlotta plays with a necklace she wears, a saint engraved on a metal disc, an honoring of her Catholicism. "I won't mention the boys, I promise. I swear."

 _Compassion._

Téa gets it, knowing Carlotta's roots in missionary work, teenage years visiting orphanages and prisons, forgiveness and all that nonsense. Téa isn't all that far off with her love of criminal defense work, but her heart fills with a heavy black anger. And it's ugly. She hates that it's in her because it reminds her of Todd and all she does is fight this sort of hate and yet here she is….

She breathes and nods, willing her expression to soften at Carlotta's promise. They look at each other for another moment, then Carlotta gets up to grab the coffee pot. Téa stares down into her empty mug, letting her finger trace around the rim. Then she shudders, a chill running down her back. She rubs her arms...feeling suddenly cold...and she doesn't know why.

* * *

The late afternoon sun shines into the yard at the women's correctional facility, warming the chilly air a bit. The inmates fill the yard, enjoying their hour of out of the cells. Most of them stroll around, talking, smoking. Roseanne sits on top of one of the tables, criss-cross legs, leaning back on her arms, letting the sun hit her face. She still couldn't believe how good she was feeling...she was in prison, for god's sake...shouldn't she be writing woeful songs about her life, instead of sunning herself? She grins at the thought, as she opens her eyes…

...to find Oba, standing in front of her, having just appeared out of nowhere, it seems. Roseanne jumps a little, then touches her chest.

"Oh! Hey...didn't think you were coming out." Oba tips her head slightly, eyeing her knowingly.

Roseanne raises an eyebrow. "What?"

Oba grins like a cat then holds out a pack of cigarettes, offering. Roseanne looks down at it, then back up at her. "Oh, no thanks."

Oba cocks an eyebrow. "No? In prison and jou don't smoke? Hmmm," she says, pulling one of them out with her teeth. Roseanne watches her carefully, studying her as she lights the cigarette, getting it started...then she takes a long drag, and tips her head back, eyes closed...holding the smoke in for a long time, before blowing it out. Roseanne squints, amazed at how smooth her moves are, how effortless. Even the smoke seems to flow out of her with a gracefulness, dancing up into the air before it dissipates. Oba taps the cigarette, knocking the ash off then takes a seat on top of the table next to her.

"So...where you from, cher?" she asks, taking another drag.

Roseanne stares at her for a moment...then shrugs, feeling more at ease with her now. "Puerto Rico by way of New York."

"Ah...da big apple, no?" Oba says, with a laugh.

Roseanne nods, leaning back on her arms again. "What about you? You never did tell me where you're from."

Oba glances off to the side, to blow the smoke away from Roseanne. She sniffs, tossing her long braids. "Well, I was born in Haiti..." she starts, with a pronunciation of 'Haiti' that only the natives use. "And my mother brought me to America when I was just a little girl...and we made our home in New Orleans. Even after she die, I stay there a long time. I loved it there."

Roseanne listens, completely engrossed.

Oba glances at her, and grins. "Jou ever been to New Orleans, cher?"

Roseanne shakes her head.

"Well...I tink dat if you ever get outta here, you should go," she says, with an eerie calm, blowing more smoke into the air. "'Tis a beautiful place...and I tink dat jou would be...very happy dere."

Roseanne smiles, nodding, questioning though. "Is that...where you learned to...to do it?"

Oba stares at her for a long time, without answering and Roseanne can't help but be a little unnerved by it. But she feels like she can't move from the spot, and can't look at anything else, like Oba's stare is holding her in place. Finally, Oba sighs, breaking her stare to stub out the cigarette and flick it away. She looks back at Roseanne just as the buzzer sounds for the end of their hour.

"I learn many tings dere," is all she says, as she gets down off the table and walks away, back toward the facility. Roseanne watches her go for a second, still floored by the power the woman oozes from every pore. Finally, she looks away, glancing at the setting sun and smiles.

She jumps off the table and runs up beside Oba, who gives her another one of her knowing smiles, as they walk back together. Oba can see the excitement in Roseanne's walk, the emotions painted all over her face...the girl was only too happy to go back to that cell.

Oba laughs. "I never see anybody so 'appy to be in jail."

Roseanne giggles like a kid. "It's crazy, I know...but...I feel wonderful. I dunno what happened last night, but...I don't ever remember feeling this good before."

The guards prod them all into single file as they walk inside in a nice, neat line, back to their cells. The doors open, and they step back into their little hovels, the doors slamming behind them automatically.

Roseanne immediately lies down, wanting to take a nap, wanting to be well-rested for her _...meditation..._ later on that night.

 _Yes ..._ tonight would be another wonderful, satisfying night.

In the shadow of her bunk, Oba watches Roseanne carefully, her eyes sharp like a hawk's. A slow, ever-widening grin spreads across her face, full of dark energy… an all-consuming malevolence bubbling under the surface of her brown skin that Roseanne, in her naivete, just couldn't see…

...yet.

* * *

Téa gets up off the floor when she hears the knock at the door, glancing down at the boys before stepping away. On a fluffy baby blanket in the middle of the room, the twins rock around, doing what babies do...kicking, squirming, babbling. Téa sprints to the door, thinking that Todd might have sent Starr up while he parked the car. She opens the door and immediately looks down…

...but only sees legs.

She looks up to see RJ staring at her, expressionless. Her eyes widen, and she smiles, reaching out and hugging him tightly. RJ tries to resist, but then he weakens and he hugs her back, even lifting her a little off the ground. He closes his eyes, relishing these rare moments when he can touch her and be close to her. But he dreads them just as much… because they are a bitter taste of what he can never have. He lets her go, holding her away.

"Girl… look at you."

Téa beams at him. "Where have you been? I missed you."

He looks down for a moment, touched and hurt by that at the same time. He's carrying a bit of information and he cools a bit at that reality.

They step into the foyer. "Sorry," he says, "...figured you guys needed space, you know."

Still smiling, Téa grabs his hands, leading him into the living room. "Come see..." she says.

RJ stops short when he sees the kids lying on the floor. "Wow," is all he can say.

Téa gets on the floor, careful still because though she shouldn't have pain anymore, she does. _Phantom pain._ She pulls RJ down with her and he squats down, his long coat settling around him. She makes note of it...the long braids...the long coat...what _was_ it with her and long-haired guys who were partial to dark clothes and long outerwear? She laughs to herself, able to do it for once that day, without remembering her nightmare.

RJ reaches out to Brendan, holding a finger out for him to grab onto. Both boys stare back, fascinated by the new visitor. "Hey, little man...and which one are you?" RJ asks, as Brendan wraps his little fist around his finger.

Téa smiles, affectionately wrapping an arm around his arm. "That...is Brendan...and that...is Evan," she says, pointing at them, making her typical goofy faces at them to make them laugh. Both babies see her and respond, kicking happily, making bubbly noises.

RJ laughs a little, tugging on Brendan's arm. "Hmmm...Manning, the next generation," he says, sitting all the way down on the floor.

Téa laughs at that, easy, comfortable laughter that always comes out of her when she is with RJ. They sit on the floor for a while, just admiring the twins… then RJ lets go of Brendan, turning to Téa to take care of the business at hand.

"So...tell me...how you been?"

"Okay, I guess? Tired...really tired...tired all the time...but otherwise..." She trails off, with a shrug.

He nods...wondering if he should lead in to the subject more...or just say it. After a moment, he tosses his head, taking a deep breath.

"Listen. I, uh...I gotta talk to you about something."

She sees how heavy whatever he wants to say is. And she's just throws her hands up. "Wow, this is my day for news. First Carlotta, now you."

RJ's brow creases. "Why, what'd she have to say?"

She shakes her head, looking at the babies. "Guess Roseanne was feeling lonely… wrote her a letter."

He lets out a humorless laugh at that, then growls, "If I never see that girl again, it'll be too goddamn soon."

Téa nods, playing with Evan's feet...he kicks back at her playfully.

"My turn then." RJ frowns hard, then decides he really has to talk about this.

And with that, Téa sits up, donning full armor, because she can see in her old friend, in those beautiful dark eyes, he's gonna hit her hard, and she doesn't know if she's got it in her to fight him…

 **To be continued...**


	5. Chapter 5

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 5**

RJ glanced at the door, gearing up for what he was going to say. After another moment of delay, he says, "Look, your man's gonna be back any minute, so… I'm gonna be real straight, alright?"

Looking at him questioningly, Téa keeps a steady gaze, listening. RJ looks toward the door instinctively, yet again, then back at her. "Your phones are bugged...all of 'em. Cell, land line, your old office you rentin' out."

Téa takes that in, then nods. "I figured Bo might do that."

RJ shakes his head. "Not Buchanan… ME. I'M the one who's doin' it."

Confused, Téa knocks her head back, shakes it a little. "You? Why?"

"Let's just say… we're keeping an ear out."

Téa blinks, then she realizes what he's getting at. She looks away from him, quickly. RJ tosses another look toward the door, then leans in closer to her. She looks up at him, their faces close.

"We? As in you...and Todd?" she whispers.

RJ nods...then whispers back. "I know you talked to him… I know he called here last night. I heard everything."

Téa shuts her eyes at that. "Please tell me you didn't say anything to Todd."

He sniffs, shifting around. "No...I didn't. Not yet, anyway."

"Not YET? No. No, no, no no no… YOU… are not gonna say ANYTHING… ever."

RJ's eyes widen, tipping his head slightly. "You gotta be kiddin' me, girl-"

Téa turns to face him. "RJ, no, wait, just listen to me for a second. If you heard everything, then you know I told him never to call here again. I'm not… sticking up for him, I'm not protecting him… I just..." She starts, struggling with the words. Finally, she shakes her head, knowing the crazy in this, the isolation. Nobody would understand. Even she doesn't understand. "Look, Todd and I...we're like...like a tightrope act. It's a very, very delicate balance… and it's a constant struggle for us to keep each other from falling… y'know what I mean?"

Dark eyes on Téa, RJ listens to her, wanting to take what she's saying at face value, but goddamn, she's working it hard.

"If you tell him about this, he's...he's gonna go nuts. You know that. You MUST know that..."

He looks down, raising his brow, tilting his head in silent agreement, and she bends slightly to stay in his view.

"...And you heard the conversation," she continues, now slightly breathless and that's knocking RJ on his ass. "Dean's too smart to get caught, even by you two. So what's the point in telling Todd about it? I... can handle Dean, I DID handle him. He won't bother us again."

RJ stares at her, not believing what he's hearing. "Ohhhh, woman … you worse off than I thought." He sits back, falling hard on his butt. "Ohhhh goddamn."

She's watching him, eyes all over him, "And what is THAT supposed to mean?"

"Look, Téa ...I know you been through a lot, but...you and I, we been friends for a long time, so like I said, I'm keeping this straight. You ARE protecting him… whether you wanna admit it or not."

Her mouth falls open, trying to protest...but he just points a finger at her, silencing her.

"Since WHEN did you start callin' that asshole by his first name? Huh? When did you get that familiar… that FRIENDLY?"

Téa swallows hard, not even realizing she slipped up. She wishes she had a cool expression on her face but she knows she doesn't. She knows she looks desperate, like she's been CAUGHT. She tried so hard to make sure she never addressed _Shelton_ that way, to avoid something just like this. Then she looks at RJ sadly, roiling with guilt, knowing there's no excuse she can give that he won't see through because like he says, they'd been friends way too long.

She huffs hard, and there's nothing to say. Téa looks at the babies, shaking her head. "I don't know what to do, RJ, with him out there. I really don't."

RJ reaches for her, fingertips on her cheek, gently urging her to look at him. "Well, *I* know what to do...WE… know what to do."

"And that is _that_?"

"Gonna hunt that guy down so he never bothers you again."

She shakes her head, more emphatically. "No...NO. You are NOT gonna do anything like that, NEITHER of you," she says, standing up, taking a few steps back, turning her back to him. RJ glances at the kids, then stands up too, stepping up behind her.

"Téa, look at me."

She bites her lip, hard… to stop tears, to stop her craziness, before turning around. She folds her arms in classic defense mode. Drops her arms to not be that. "What?"

"What IS it with you and this guy? What's he holding over you? 'Cause it can't possibly be some kinda Stockholm syndrome thing you got goin' on."

Téa lets out a short breath at that, feeling her temper starting to flare. "RJ… just DROP IT. RIGHT NOW."

"No...this is important. Do you understand how dangerous this guy is? 'Cause I don't think you do."

"The hell are you talkin' about...OF COURSE I know how dangerous he is...*I* was the hostage!" Téa covers her mouth, suddenly realizing that she's yelling. She looks down at Brendan and Evan, who are both looking up at her. She shuts her eyes, and takes a deep breath to calm herself though it's not working very well.

RJ takes a step closer, putting his hands on her arms, holding her in front of him, trying to be the understanding friend. "Yeah, tha's right, which is EXACTLY why I don't think you see him for what he really is."

She looks up at him, eyes filling up. "Please...please...let it go. Don't pursue this, I'm...I'm asking you."

"What, would you rather we just let him go? Let him stay out there, so he can keep harassing you? No...no way."

Téa buries her face in her hands for a moment...then looks back up at him, tears streaming down her face. "RJ, PLEASE… I just… for the first time in my life, I feel like I'm actually starting to HAVE a life. I have a family now… and Todd and I… we've worked so hard to get here..."

RJ listens, but his features tell her he isn't buying this, really really not.

Téa grabs her friend by his arms, this time. "RJ! This isn't about D- Shelton- Dean!"

"Then what, woman?!"

"TODD! It's about TODD! What YOU don't seem to understand is what's gonna happen if he goes after Dean- SHELTON. I will LOSE my husband… because he's not gonna beat the crap outta him and leave it at that, you KNOW that. Yeah, I understand how dangerous Dean is… but I also understand how-" She stops, mid-sentence, the image of the demon, of Todd in his black coat, babies in his fists, holding them by their necks...

She takes a shaky breath, glancing at Brendan and Evan, feeling a twinge of that awful fear...then she looks back at RJ.

"-I also understand how dangerous TODD is. I understand perfectly and I am NOT gonna just sit back and watch the life that I've worked so hard for go down the toilet because of some stupid vendetta! You understand me now?! RJ?"

He stands there, floored… and has to look away for a moment, to take all that in.

Téa takes another breath to settle herself down, then walks up to him, wiping her face. "Do YOU see what I'M saying? If Todd goes after Dean, he will KILL him...DEAD...as in not alive anymore, as in bashing his brains out, shooting him fifty times, or throwing him off a thirty-story building. And THEN… he'll go to prison, or be on the run for the REST of his life...and EITHER way, I'm gonna lose him. I'm gonna lose my husband and Brendan and Evan, and Starr… they will lose their father... _forever_..."

RJ lets out a long sigh at that, as Téa sniffs back the rest of the tears, clearly not wanting to cry.

"...and maybe Dean deserves to die," she says, "...but maybe he doesn't. You tell me...which is worse?"

A silence hangs over the room as the two look at each other. RJ really has to think about this. Is Todd as dangerous as all that? WOULD he kill Shelton? He always talks a good game, a scary one… but faced with a choice, RJ wasn't convinced necessarily that Todd would kill someone. He'd been caught up in some shit, true, but nothing premeditated, nothing purposeful...

 _That he KNEW of._

Yeah, he couldn't deny, Téa probably knew a whole lot more than RJ did about her goddamn husband. Finally, shaking his head, he reaches out, touching her face gently. "Okay...I see what you're saying...I do...and you have a point, but… fact is, there's not a helluva lot I can do about it and you know that. Even IF I agree to stay out of it, even IF I agree not to tell him about that phone call, doesn't matter. I can't stop Manning from doin' what he wants. The man is hell-bent on finding Shelton, 'cause...he convinced that he still getting to you, that he still a threat..." A hard look came on his face. "And he ain't wrong on that."

Téa turns away, her whole body sinking. RJ steps to the side to stay in her view. "So...it's up to you, baby girl. YOU the one who's gonna have to stop him, not me. You the only one who CAN stop him."

Just then, they hear the distant sound of the elevator bell outside. Téa shuts her eyes, feeling like a huge weight has just been dropped on her. RJ reaches out, pulling her to him, wrapping her up in his big arms.

"God, RJ… how am I supposed to do that, huh?" she whispers, into his chest. He lets his head rest on hers for just a second.

"You gonna talk him out of it… you gonna tell him what you just told me. You gonna convince him that it's not worth it. THAT'S what you gonna do." And with that, he lets her go… just in time, as they hear keys in the door. Téa and RJ both step away from each other, and Téa wipes her face roughly, as she gets back down on the floor with the boys. The door opens, and Starr comes bounding in.

"HI!" she yells, glancing at RJ with a smile, before tossing her overnight bag on the floor and making a beeline for her baby step-brothers, doing a running skid, and nearly tackling Téa. "HI TEE!"

Téa looks up at RJ, real worry there in her eyes, but she covers as she wrestles with an unusually hyper Starr. "Hey! How are YOU?" she says, giving her a smacking kiss.

"Fiiiiiine," she says, happily, then turns to Brendan and Evan, making the goofiest face at them. Téa gets up, and stands next to RJ, watching with a sad smile, as Starr takes over, just showering them with affection, planting sloppy kisses on their cheeks, lifting their shirts to blow raspberries on their tummies. The babies giggle, kick and flail uncontrollably, deliriously happy with the attention. Then the door slams shut, and both RJ and Téa look over to see Todd, arms full of takeout. He makes an apologetic face at Téa.

"Sorry...didn't mean to slam it. Hey, man," he says to RJ, looking at him with his usual mist of suspicion. No matter how close they are, Todd never trusts him completely. RJ nods back. Then Todd leans down, kissing Téa on the cheek. RJ makes eye contact with her and she smiles wistfully at him, more of a silent plea to not tell Todd about Dean. He glances away from her and reaches out to grab one of the bags from Todd.

"Just came by to check out the new arrivals," he says, as he takes a whiff of the Chinese food and nods approvingly, setting it down on the desk.

Todd grunts a soft non-response, and moves to Téa. She looks up at him, thankful for Starr. He tends to a lighter mood around her, simply happier. She smiles, and reaches out, touching his face gently. His face softens, studying her, picking up on something, but not sure what. He turns his attention back to RJ.

"So...whaddaya think... WWF material?"

RJ lets out one of his famous deep rumbling belly laughs at that. Téa cracks up too, looking down at the kids on the floor. Starr giggles at the remark, then stands up, hands on her hips, looking down at the babies.

"YEAH! **BODYSLAM!"** she yells.

Unable to move quick enough to stop her before she jumps down on them, Todd, Téa and RJ all gasp until they hear the unmistakable sound of the babies' laughter. They exchange glances, letting out sighs of relief. Téa runs a hand through her hair, still feeling the flutters in her chest.

"Uh...just how much sugar has she had today?" she whispers.

Todd shrugs. "Dunno...picked her up from school, they'd been having a party or something. She told me she had a few cupcakes, soda, you know."

"Oh...well, that would explain it, yeah."

RJ cracks up, then elbows Téa. "I'm outta here. Catch you crazy kids later."

Todd tosses him a nod. "Later," he says...still wondering what RJ was doing here in the first place. Sure, probably just a visit of the boys but why when she's home alone? He hates that jealousy still bubbles up when he hovers around Téa. It's stupid and historical. He watches as Téa walks him to the door...then shrugs it off, turning his attention to the kids, all three of them, having a grand old time rolling around on the floor. He watches them, finding himself grinning like a kid himself, amazed at them _… what was that Téa said before...about miracles...? Yeah...we deserve this...after all the shit we've been through...we're entitled._

Then the grin fades, as the bad comes with the good, and he suddenly feels a twinge of fear. _This joy won't last._ He takes a breath, pushing the thought out of his mind. Then he looks at Starr...his first, his beautiful, not-so-little girl… and taps her shoulder. She looks up at him with Blair's eyes, bright and blue. He grins down at her.

RJ steps out into the hall, looking back at Téa. "Call me if you need anything."

She smiles, a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, as she leans against the doorframe tiredly… and he lingers on her face a moment before turning and heading for the elevator. Téa watches him, then quietly closes the door, turning around and propping herself up against it. She looks into the living room and sees Todd with the kids.

"Think you can take me?" Todd says to Starr, teasingly, talking to her like a badass. She sticks her tongue out through her smile, knowing the game. She stands up, hands on her hips, only coming up to his waist. She looks up at him with a fake snarl, like the wrestlers she currently loves to watch on TV.

"AnyTIME, anyWHERE...I'll kick your butt!"

Téa chuckles...then Todd suddenly reaches down and grabs her, scooping her up in his arms. Her smile fades and she becomes transfixed on them, watching Todd toss Starr around, as she thrashes about wildly, pretending to fight him...laughing hysterically…

...but all Téa can see now are his dark clothes, hair flying around… and the long black coat flapping around him, settling on the breeze, then lifting up again… and all she can hear is his growling as he pretends to chew on his daughter… and she screams… those high-pitched, little-girl screams…

Téa's chest flutters with sudden anxiety and she looks away, shutting her eyes. She rubs the bridge of her nose, feeling her head getting heavy with the stress. She does NOT know where the hell these images come from, why they are so vivid, so… real. She feels them inside of her, she sees them like a movie. Finally, she hears the fussing cries of one of the babies and sees Brendan crying for once. She goes to him immediately, hands up against the commotion, stepping around Todd and Starr who have dropped to the floor to wrestle some more.

"Whoa...guys...GUYS!" she says, squatting down to pick up Brendan. Todd and Starr both look over at her, through tousled hair. Téa takes a breath, then smiles as best she can. "Um...sorry...I just need to get the twins upstairs, okay? Then you can...go back to...y'know...smackdown."

They look at each other, then Starr jumps up, fixing her hair. "Okay..." she says, out of breath. "...I'll help! Can I carry Brendan?"

Téa smooths some of her hair, still distracted by her thoughts. "Uh...actually, why don't you get your stuff settled upstairs first, okay? Then you can help me give 'em a bath. Sound good?"

Starr blinks at her… then shrugs. "Okay! Be right back!" she says, grabbing her bag and running upstairs. Todd watches Téa let out a long, stress-filled sigh before attempting to pick up both babies. She gets Brendan on her shoulder, shushing him as he fusses… then Todd moves in and scoops up Evan. She looks at him and as Todd rests Evan on his shoulder, he notices just how jittery she is all of a sudden.

"What's up, Delgado?"

Téa furrows her brow, then shakes her head, standing up with Brendan, in full unhappy mode now, crying his little heart out. "Nothing," she says, unconvincingly. She picks up the blanket and throws it on the couch. She tries to walk past him to get to the stairs, but he stands in front of her, holding Evan. The two of them stand there for a moment, silent...Todd trying to get into her head, Téa trying to keep him out of it. She finally attempts another smile and it catches him off-guard long enough to let her get past him.

"Gotta get him changed, he's probably soaked, poor thing," she tosses off, in a casual mutter, as she walks up the stairs. Todd watches her disappear into the shadow of the upstairs hall… wondering what the hell is going on. Then he looks to his shoulder, rubbing Evan's back, the baby squirms about happily, smacking him with flailing arms and legs. Todd grins at him, carrying him upstairs.

* * *

 _"Do you hear the melody of love in her voice? Do you feel the delicate tones caress your soft skin, Angels? Rock, there in the moonlight, there in the breeze. Rock in your cradles, breathe in the silence ..."_

It's midnight and the moon is out, the stars, too. Eerie dark clouds pass over them, drifting, ghostly ships. The haunting image makes Téa shiver and she pushes away the beginnings of panic, recalling briefly being in captivity, being taken away from those she loved. She pats her childless abdomen, remembering the singular comfort she would get from the babies being inside of her. She was never alone while in the clutches of Roseanne, of ... _Shelton_. The boys had been with her, kicking, shifting, letting her know they were alive, telling her with amniotic movement that she had a purpose for going on, for surviving.

 _Never alone ... there in captivity..._

The boys are finally sleeping, for once, at the same time. Finally sleeping ... _god ..._ Téa is so tired, so worn and feeling somewhat beat up by RJ. His threats stung, his warning about her feelings... _Stockholm syndrome…_ but Todd's threat was greater, sharper. She knew he was ...

… _lethal_.

She leaves him upstairs, collapsed on the bed after being assured that both boys were definitely out again. He was tired he hadn't even changed out of his clothes. She leaves him spread out like a proverbial golden eagle so that she can wander the darkness of the penthouse, so she can disappear into the unlit rooms ... in the unstable moonlight. After a while, she finds herself standing at the mantel above the fireplace, playing a music box, the pings bouncing about like metallic bubbles on draping piano strings all around her. Clear strings ... of musical beauty ... tying her up ...

 _"The moon prays for you, the night calls for you, your mother's song lives for you. Do not be afraid, Angels, because you are not alone ..."_

"Damn..."

The word slips out under her breath, thinking of herself and Dean "caught on tape." Damn Todd, damn RJ ... damn Dean. _Shelton._ Closing her eyes to the tune playing, she breathes in the scent of babies, talcum powder, keenly aware of the unique connection between a mother and her children. Her own connection to her mother had been interrupted so that, as an adult, she often felt less than capable of living up to her own version of what a mother was supposed to be.

Would she ever fill those shoes that she herself had sewn? Would she?

With emotional heaviness pressing on her heart, Téa rewinds the music box and can almost hear words to the music, can almost hear the sounds of the beach back home in Puerto Rico ... the saltiness of ocean water spray on her lips. She can almost remember the scent of her own mother, the sound of her voice. She was so beautiful, yet must have carried the sadness of a million lost souls to walk away from her children. She must have been so very ... empty.

 _"Don't you cry little babies ... don't you fret ... mama is here with her arms around you and her kisses on your chin. Don't be afraid of the ghosts howling in the wind ..."_

She does not hear him approach her. He barely makes a sound coming down those stairs but it isn't a surprise. Todd is that way sometimes, like a lithe cat, tiptoeing into your life, quietly, seductively, rubbing up against you. Mewling for you, crying for you. And when he leaves after getting what he wants, what he needs, when he saunters back to where he has come from, you look down and find festering scratches ... scarring wounds ... changing you forever…

...when Todd rubs up against you, your life, you are never the same again.

Téa breaths in shakily as his fingertips lightly touch her stiffening nipples beneath her air-thin gown, as he slides his other hand down her belly, ghosting her hip, as his lips softly kiss her neck. He wets her skin with his cat-like tongue and then breathes gently on the moistness, sending sexual shocks through Téa's body. His palms continue their light touching of her breasts, her body, then he moves his hand to hers, grasping it tightly.

 _"It is not the light of the moon you should be afraid of, Tiny Angels, but the heat of love ..."_

She had been afraid in the darkness of the penthouse, listening to the chimes of the music box. How funny that her husband has come along at the right moment. To seize her, to rescue her ... _rescue ..._ to carry her up into his loving arms like he does. Not like before when he wouldn't touch her. He appears now when she needs him, there with strong arms, rescuing her. She hadn't heard him approach but she knew when he was behind her. She always knows because she can feel his heat, an energy he emits. Like the heat of the sun. Téa leans her head back into his chest, letting him run his fingernails up and down the length of her exposed arms, closing her eyes, thinking how safe she feels, how ... _rescued_... from her own dark thoughts.

 _Rescued ... saved ... rescuing me from that horrible place ... from those horrible people ... those criminals who tried to rape me ... who dirtied me ... who violated ME ... rescuing me from Roseanne ... he had saved me ... had picked me up in his arms and saved US ... me and my babies …_

As his arms wrap around her, the whispered words flow into her mind, accompanying the music perfectly… in such a tender harmony… warm and slightly wet from the heat of Todd's mouth, right by her ear...

"...you're so beautiful, Téa ...I...I love you..."

Téa sighs at that, and at his increasingly sensual kisses… then she hesitates… because the voice doesn't sound like Todd. It sounds like...

 _...wait..._

She starts to turn her head, wanting to see his face… Todd's face… but he prevents her from doing it, still kissing her neck, his arms still holding her in place. So she reaches up, and grabs onto his hair, running her fingers through the long strands, soft and silky, definitely her husband's hair. She sighs again, relieved, easing back into the mood, closing her eyes again as Todd sucks on her earlobe, and whispers to her again…

"...I love you… I want you so bad… I missed you… this..."

Sighing at his murmuring his desire for her . _.. his desire ... Dean's desire ... no .. no ..._ it's Todd kissing her ... it's her husband ... it is he who smells so good ... who feels so good. Not the other _... it's Todd ... Todd ..._

"...it's been so long, " she whispers back, as she turns her cheek into his lips, relishing his warm kisses.

"...too long..." is his reply, whispered breathlessly as he turns her around, immediately going for her lips. She takes a quick breath in, feeling him pressing her to him, feeling his erection against her through the soft material of his underclothing. He is so clean from a shower, so delicious, the way she loves him. She can feel his tongue begin to taste her, delicately suckling at her lips. Reaching up, Téa touches the silkiness of his long hair and imagines them on that beach, the breeze carrying their lovemaking sounds. She can see the babies in their cradle-like hammocks ... the two sleeping in the moonlight, peaceful and loved.

 _"Her song is one of love and with it comes promises. Let her sing to you, let her nuzzle you ... she loves you. Don't be afraid while in her embrace ... don't be afraid of the ghosts ... of the biting wind ..."_

As they continue to kiss deeply, hungrily, Téa moves her fingers through his hair, grabbing on and letting go to grab again… his long, silky hair… that suddenly starts to feel...short...spiky…

 _...wait…_

Todd moans and Téa bites down on the inside of her cheek because she's reminded of Dean, of _his_ hair, of _his_ mouth, even though she has never touched him this way, nothing like that, but he did grip her body to his as he carried her away from that prison of a house, as he rescued her _... rescued ... saved ..._ as his muscles strained with her helpless weight ... holding her firmly ... holding her babies too _... saving ..._ protecting her and them ... all of them.

 _...wait...no ... no ... I HATE him ... I HATE what he did to me ... he took me from my home, took me away from Todd… he hurt me ... he HURT all of us by allowing Roseanne to do what she did ... by helping her accomplish her sick goals ... god...what's wrong with me...ohgod… ohgod..._

"...ohgod..." Téa cries out unconsciously when Todd moves down her chest and, through her delicate nightgown, tugs on her nipples with his heated mouth, moving from one to the other, needing her, practically whimpering at his own loneliness for her.

"I miss you, Téa," he pants, pulling at her shoulders, urging her to the floor, and when she's there, he crawls on top of her, covering her with his beautiful bare body, wearing nothing but boxer briefs, making her feel how hard he is as he grinds into her with his hips, pushing apart her thighs. She fights a surge of emotional pain running through her, because he's suffocating her with his urgency ... he is ... closing her in…

He is devouring her.

She opens her eyes, reminded, reminded of too many things. There in the dark, as he kisses her mouth, as he explores her mouth with his tongue, reaching into her, caressing her tongue, her teeth, as she touches his body, his back, his strained arms, touching him like he is begging her to do...

 _Touch me,_ he breathes, _hold me, Jesus, oh god…._

He pulls away slightly, breathing fast, shaking with need, want, and lifts her nightgown before yanking down the briefs so he can push his aching flesh inside of her, pulling them down just enough, too hurried to take them off entirely, and, although she doesn't reveal it, when he finally presses his cock to her opening, she can feel it, every little push to wet her, in and in and in, and _ohmygod_ it hurts when he does that, and she grunts at the blind fight to get inside her, a repeated agonizing effort at penetration. He's huffing and shaking, his mouth wetting her neck, teeth holding her without even knowing he's doing it.

She isn't healed yet, she realizes, because her body isn't fully recovered from the babies ... even though they'd been cut out of her ... she ... isn't wet enough ... and it hurts like hell.

"Todd," she tries to object, but it doesn't sound like an objection, it sounds impassioned. Her hands are on his shoulders in some kind of defense but he can't hear her, he can't see what's happening because he's finally with her, he's getting deeper and deeper inside of her, groaning at the connection, at his own breach of every obstacle that has kept them apart from before she was taken ... and well ...

… what she sees in it, what she hears, what she feels he is doing to her is changing in her own head. His mad lustful drive into her isn't passion _... no ..._ it's something ... significantly different. She imagines him grinning as he dominates her, imagines his perverted enjoyment of her lack of readiness, of her pain. She knows the rapes he committed as a youth must have been similar, she knows this. And from her dream, she hears the wind, sees it swiping at his long coat noisily about his ankles ... sees him bearing down on her babies ... on them ...

… she sees him suffocating them. Killing them.

 _"It is the heat of Death ... it is the heat of Death's hand of love you should be afraid of. His song, his howls, his fury ... Little Angels ... close your eyes and sleep in the fire of Death, in the heated song of ... Death ..."_

Todd lifts himself up on his arms, to thrust into her more intentionally, driven now, and Téa opens up for him, wrapping her legs around him as his hand moves to her ass. He is no longer kissing her, just resting his forehead on hers, his mouth opening slightly on her lips, breathing hard as he tries to be gentle, as he tries to accommodate Téa's barely breathed _Todd, Todd,_ but he needs her too badly, _god, he wants to come, ohJesusChrist_ ... and he wants her to know that he loves her ... that he still loves her ... but he also wants to know that she loves him back ... that she's not been changed by what happened to her ... that she still wants him.

"Tell me it's okay," he pleads, in a strained, halting voice… holding himself still, trying to hold himself deep inside of her.

"...tell me you love me..."

Téa has to shut her eyes at that, at the bottomless pit of love in his voice, the need, the incredible vulnerability that he so rarely shows, at the wounded man who can never be loved enough. He really does love her, and she knows this because he tries so hard to be everything she wants… to give her everything he has, so how can she even think about making her own pain known, her physical, mental, emotional pain, how can she even think about making that known now? She would hurt him so much…

… as much or even more than he is hurting her right now.

"I love you, baby," she whispers, as forced silent tears spill out, which she knows he is unaware of, as he begins to pump once again, the movements gaining in intensity, his body taut and his voice strained and ragged in his own desperate effort at control. She loves him, she is loving him ...

But he is still the Devil ... Satan ... and he is suffocating her and her babies ... and she is letting him. D _ean ... Devil ... Satan ... Todd_ ... who is on top of her now? Who is taking her soul, now?

"...not hurting you, am I?" he asks fearfully, slowing down, but ... Téa can't hear his fear, can't hear his concern anymore. All she can hear is his forcefulness, his groans. She says nothing in response, only moaning, and he takes that to mean "no, you're not hurting me," for carnal acceptance, so he grabs her enthusiastically by her backside with one of his hands to lift her to him, asking, "Can you come ... can you come? I want you to feel good," but his words are lost on her. She is hurting and choking and wants to be rescued, wants her babies and herself to be saved ... because Satan is killing them ... stealing them from their cradles in the wind on that black beach ... in the moonlight ... in the starry, deathly light …

 _"Nooooo! Don't hurt them!"_

She can see Todd storming towards them, trying to get to them ...

And now, she feels him grabbing her by the wrists, holding them above her head and she knows he loves to do that but forgets where it comes from and she sees in her head that he grabs her wrists to throw her back as he lifts the small babies out of their cradles by their tiny throats ... shaking them at her, grinning ... his teeth reflecting in the light ... his hair glimmering, a wild wind-whipped lion's mane as he pronounces...

 _"They're mine! I OWN THEM! THEY ... ARE ... MINE!"_

She hears her own screams, her own wails, soulful, deep wails, as he smashes the babies against the swaying trees ... over and over ... and then walks away ...

 _ **"NO!**_ _Ohhhh...please...god...no…!"_

Leaves them dead, leaves her in the sand ... screaming ... screaming ... suffocating ... there on the ghostly Puerto Rican beach...

Todd's whole body shudders and he moves even harder inside of her, quickly coming, growling as he does so, growling and moving all through it, the come lasting and the relief tearing through him, but ...

… he realizes with a horror that Téa is sobbing into him, crying hard, and he pulls out of her fast, huffing a hard, "Oh shit, what what what? What is it, Delgado, what's wrong?" She lets out a breath as he releases her, and slaps her hands over her eyes...crying… and his face crumples at her pain, the love in his voice another sort of killing.

"Oh no ... oh god, what's the matter?! Did I hurt you?"

She can't talk ... all that come are her sobs, her pained, terrified cries... mourning a loss that hasn't taken place ... mourning her babies ... her soul ... everything. She keeps her eyes covered as Todd sits up and pulls her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her, holding her tightly.

"...Jesus, fuck, I'm sorry… I'm so sorry ... I ... I thought you ... you were okay… I'm so sorry," he whispers, suddenly finding himself crying, too, holding her, not understanding, afraid, worried he'd done something wrong but he just doesn't know. But then he begins to formulate his own reasons for her uncontrollable tears, his own theory ... and pours it out to her, that it isn't him ... that it's those bastards that had taken her ...

… that it's Shelton who is making her cry, Roseanne ...

"I know," he says, "I know you're scared… but they won't hurt you anymore, I promise… I'll make sure of it..." And now anger seeps into his words, now that he's gotten hold of a thread of her world. "I'll make them pay for it, I will fucking end them."

Téa hears the hate and she finally lets her hands fall away from her eyes at that. Shaking her head as she works to regain her composure. She wraps her arms around his arms, turning her face to his...whispering, trying to quell his rising fury...

"No, Todd, no, it's okay, it's okay, it's just me, it's just me...it's okay…," she whispers urgently, more to herself than to him, not at all revealing what she just experienced, what she saw in her head so clearly, so precisely. She refuses to say what she feels so deeply about Todd because she can't.

"No, it's not okay! I missed you so much… I just wanted...to make love to you ... and you end up ... like THIS! Those fucking... bastards..." His words end not in rage, but in pain, so much pain. But his anger renews because that is so much easier… "I'm gonna fuckin' destroy them ...BOTH of them," he promises quietly, furiously.

"No...please..." Téa cries, holding him, the two entangled in one another. "Stop… please don't talk like that… I can't bear it." Their fears, too, are tied up, strung up ... manacled ... as evidenced by Téa's silence, by her inability to tell Todd what is truly frightening her. The moonlight and starlight and darkness covers them as they try to comfort each other as they try so very hard. Todd rests a hand on her head, bringing their heads, their faces, closer together… and Téa grabs onto his hand, holding it there.

"I love you, Téa. God ... how could they could have done this to you ... bastards ... goddamn bastards..."

"Shhhh...no more...no more...please..."

 _"Death's love for you is powerful and eager ... his song is hypnotic ... you cannot fight him, Tiny Angels ... there in your cradles. Relinquish yourselves to him ... then listen to your mother's song of pain ... listen listen listen ..."_

* * *

 _Sleep ..._ after meditation, after the imaginings ... is the most peaceful thing there is, Roseanne thinks, as she drifts off gratefully, oblivious to the cell, oblivious to her own entrapment.

Yeah, it sure is peaceful. She smiles as she floats away.

 **To be continued...**


	6. Chapter 6

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 6**

An obnoxious buzzer rings as the prison guard opens the door for Carlotta. She steps into the small room where people come to visit their incarcerated family members, loved ones or friends. As she pulls out one of the chairs and sits down, she realizes that Roseanne is none of these anymore, not family, not a friend, not a loved one. She lets out a long sigh at that, clutching her purse tightly, fidgeting. God though, He loves all His children. " _Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble."_ Right, that's why she's here.

 _Compassion._

She looks up at the thick panes of glass, separating her from the other side, where Roseanne would be in a minute… and wonders…

 _...how did we get here...how the hell did this happen...?_

She remembers Roseanne as a child, a lovely, soft-spoken, shy little girl who had a crush on her son. She smiles at that, wistful… then she remembers how badly Roseanne took her mother's death. Roseanne loved her father, but it was her mother she was always closest to; and when she died, that soft-spoken, shy little girl died with her. _That was probably it,_ Carlotta thinks. _That must have been when it all started._

The buzzer rings again, startling Carlotta out of her train of thought. She looks up to see the door opening on the other side… and a guard walking in with Roseanne, leading her by the elbow. The guard walks her to the chair opposite Carlotta and sits her down, then steps back, against the wall.

It takes Carlotta a moment to stop gaping at this new version of Roseanne. She had always been so fashionable. Now, she sits here with no makeup, in bright orange scrubs with the prison's name stenciled across the chest… and her hair, always so long and silky, now a sloppily chopped shoulder-length do. Even so, her natural beauty remains… and she offers Carlotta a little smile.

Carlotta smiles back, halfheartedly, then she reaches out and picks up the telephone in front of her. Roseanne reaches out and does the same; and Carlotta's heart stops for a second at another harsh sight. Roseanne's delicate wrists, bound in handcuffs. Roseanne notices the look on her face, and smiles again as she puts the phone to her ear, with some difficulty.

"Pretty weird, huh?" she says, trying to keep it light, trying to ease Carlotta into place. But Carlotta quickly makes another face to cover up.

"Weird doesn't even begin to describe it."

Roseanne does a slight take at that, surprised by the coldness in her tone. Then she gets herself together, and gets back into character, sinking into a remorseful-looking expression.

"Well...thanks for coming. It's kinda late for you to be coming out all this way, isn't it?"

Carlotta stares at her for a moment, not sure what to say… or even what to feel. The emotions churn away inside her, all jumbled up, and despite her deepest wish that Roseanne would be genuinely sorry and want forgiveness, she can't help but feel that Roseanne has her under a microscope. Her reactions are being watched and examined, carefully, but for what purpose, she doesn't know. She swallows hard, trying to maintain some composure. Thinks… _compassion, compassion, be humble._ Except, to be honest, Carlotta can think of nothing but the trauma Téa went through at seeing the prison, at seeing Roseanne in the flesh. And she's realizing that maybe she made a mistake in coming here.

"What do you want?" she asks bluntly, disregarding Roseanne's question altogether.

The young woman studies her right back, wondering what her next move should be. Before she entered the room, she imagined Carlotta would be her usual motherly, sentimental, weepy self...wanting to reach out to her and support her, despite everything that had happened. She figured if she just spoke softly and acted meek and humble, Carlotta would open right up. But she senses a mental wall between them, in addition to the physical one, one that Carlotta's using to keep her out. So she sits back a little, deciding to try another angle.

"I don't want anything from you. I wrote you that letter because..." she starts, then trails off.

Carlotta raises an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Look, I'm really...sorry...about everything," Roseanne says, trying her best to sound sincere. "And I just thought...maybe...you could forgive me."

Carlotta takes that in...then she takes a deep breath, switching the phone from one ear to the other. "You thought *I* could forgive you. Well...maybe...someday. But I'M not the one you should be asking for forgiveness. You KNOW that."

Roseanne nods, bristling a little...hating Téa so much that just the _idea_ of her was enough to piss her off. But...she covers up quickly, not wanting to drive Carlotta away just yet. "Yeah, I know," she replies, looking down, keeping her voice low. "But I'm not likely to get it, am I? Not in this lifetime...or any other, for that matter."

Carlotta shrugs. "I can't do anything about that."

Roseanne looks back up at her. "Yeah, I know that, too." Silence passes between them for a moment, as each one sizes up the other. Finally, Carlotta sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose, feeling stress from trying to maintain a cool front. She can feel Roseanne's eyes on her, looking into her, trying to break her down, and get at her thoughts. She doesn't know why she thinks that, but she does.

"What do you REALLY want, Roseanne, huh? Why don't you just tell me, save us both the time. From your letter, I thought you needed support hand, but… I was wrong. I see that now."

Roseanne's eyebrow arches, ever so slightly _...hmmm...she's trying, I'll give her that,_ she thinks. _Yes, you can try...but it won't work...you don't control ME...oh, no... ...I'M the one...who controls YOU._

"I miss you. I miss… Cris, I miss Angel Square...that so hard to believe?" she says, sounding hurt.

Carlotta looks up, dropping her hand away from her face. "Coming from the person who kidnapped and tortured a pregnant woman? Yes! Very hard to believe," she snaps back.

Roseanne eyes her, smiling inwardly, knowing Carlotta's about to lose it. _That's it...tell me...tell me how you hate me… tell me how I ruined Téa's pathetic little life… tell me how that sonofabitch Todd wants to kill me… tell me everything…_

… _tell me about the children, Carlotta...those precious little angels...those beautiful babies...tell me…_

"I said I was sorry," she says, calmly waiting ...waiting for the wall to crumble. Carlotta's eyes flash with anger… cracking… crumbling.

"Well, you know what? I don't think you mean that. I don't think you give one good goddamn about Téa, or what you did to her. In fact, I think you're pretty proud of yourself. You WANTED her to suffer, you WANTED her to pay for… whatever. And it didn't matter that she was pregnant, didn't matter that there were innocent lives involved… you just didn't care."

 _That's it...that's it...keep going…_

Roseanne is enjoying herself now, trying to keep from grinning, knowing she doesn't even have to keep up the appearances anymore. She can be honest now and say whatever she wants… as long as her tone stays quiet and cool… soothing.

"Oh, gimme a break, Carlotta. They might be cute now… but remember whose spawn they are."

Carlotta's mouth drops open at that… and she hesitates, knowing she wasn't even supposed to talk about them. Téa had forbidden it, with good reason, but she has to defend them, has to try and talk some sense into her. "My god… listen to you... 'spawn.' They are NOT spawn, they're CHILDREN… and they're INNOCENT. Doesn't matter WHO brought them into this world."

"Oh, no? You don't think it matters that their father's a head case who's prone to violence? Sexual violence? Against women? You don't think that genetic switch was flipped? Well, maybe not...maybe they got lucky...maybe they got all of Téa's purity, all her… normality," she replies, leaning closer to the glass. "But then again… maybe not. Maybe they're screwed either way... 'cause they either have the Lord genes, or they have the Manning genes. And BOTH of those families are chock full o' nuts, aren't they?"

She bubbles inside with giddiness as she watches the horror spread across Carlotta's face. She lets a grin out, spreading across her face, sitting back again. "Hmmm...come to think of it, they might have BOTH sets of genes… and end up being WORSE than Todd. Now THERE'S a scary thought."

Carlotta gapes at her, wanting to stop everything, wanting to get up and leave. Where before she thought she _might_ have made a mistake in coming here, she now _knows_ she made one. But Roseanne's calm, her even, almost musical tone keeps her right where she is, transfixed… and the words just keep coming out, whether she wants them to or not. "You wouldn't be talking like that if you saw them. They're two beautiful boys, Roseanne… they're angels… and I refuse to believe that there is NO hope for them at all."

Roseanne grins wider _...yes, that's it… the little boy angels… tell me… tell me their names..._ "Oh, of course there's hope, they're Téa's children. Let's not forget about Téa. She'll protect them, won't she? She'll try and try and TRY… but when it comes right down to it, she couldn't even protect HERSELF from Todd… so what makes you think she'll be able to save-oh, I'm sorry. I forgot their names."

"Evan and Brendan," Carlotta replies, automatically, without a thought.

Roseanne's grin becomes a full beam at that. "Right. Evan and Brendan...beautiful names… for beautiful boys. But y'know...maybe...they shouldn't be saved. Maybe they should be put out of their misery before they grow up to be abusers like their father… or before HE decides to abuse THEM."

Carlotta finally manages to shake herself out of whatever it was that was holding her… and she leans forward, right up to the glass. "I knew it. I knew you didn't care. And I came here anyway, hoping that...just hoping. Well, you know what? You just destroyed any hope I had left for you. You made your bed, Roseanne… now you lie in it… for the rest of your life."

With that, she slams the phone down hard, and the chair screeches across the floor as she pushes back and gets up. Roseanne watches her, as she grabs her things and leaves the room as quickly as she can. Then she puts the phone back, feeling a warmth inside, a feeling of victorious calm, as gets up, making an 'oh, well' face at the guard.

"Well, you heard the woman. Take me back to my bed."

 _...yes...back to bed...back to work._

* * *

He's tearing through a blackish wood, the low branches of trees cutting him, cutting skin, cutting clothes, as he runs breathless. It's too dark to see where he's going ... but he just keeps running. No looking back either, just running, ducking, jumping, tripping, getting back up. The smell of pine is all over him, the smell of black dirt, of rotting leaves. The bloody gashes on his arms and back are stinging him as he zips past the endless trees and stars above him, as he runs beneath a moon offering little light, little help.

Suddenly, bullets zing past, the shouts of cops let loose to hunt him down prick his ears. He doesn't stop, though, even if his muscles are cramping, even if he can't breathe anymore. Keeping his manic pace up, one thought sticks to him, one thought repeats over and over and over…

… _freedom._

No more shackles, no more prison bars, no more guards lording over him, no more torture by the other inmates, men so much stronger than him, so much worse than he could ever be, so fucking determined to teach him a lesson

... _no more ... no more._

All of a sudden he comes to a halt, stopped by a wall of sheetrock. There's no other way out of this nightmare, no way but up. Yet there's no damn way to climb it, no damn way. _Wait ... wait ..._ he sees a crack in the cliff, a place for his fingers ... then another, a spot for his shoe-covered toes.

 _Yeah ... yeah ... just climb the thing ... climb that impossibly ... high ... wall of death ... climb ... and pray you don't fall. Don't look down ... don't ... look down._

With a gasp, Todd jerks fully awake, sweat dripping off him. Still out of breath. He sniffles, scratching his head, rubbing the pain out of his eyes. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he notes that it's near-about seven in the morning. He clears his throat and sits up ... the leather couch barely making a sound. The dream had been too real. Grimacing, he easily recalls that desperate run for freedom. Yeah, so real because it's no goddamn dream. He remembers running so hard from the Llanview law. Never did get away. What he ended up with instead was a bullet in his chest and a trip back to Statesville. All because of ... Marty Saybrooke. _Marty ... Marty._ Marty the Party Girl, Marty the snitch, Marty the ... bitch. Marty, the one who brought down the rapist, the one who cut through the crap and made Todd face his worst self.

Todd lies back down on the couch. _Todd the Rapist ..._

… is that who Téa saw the other night as he made love with her? He thought her crying jag was over the kidnapping, he had thought ... it was memories of that bastard Shelton that had spooked her, that had triggered her complete and total breakdown. Those tears ... that _... fear. No ..._ more than fear, it was terror. But maybe ... maybe _he_ hurt her ... and _he's_ the one who Tea is afraid of.

The penthouse is noiseless. No crying babies, no sweet cooing of Téa to the boys, no musical swings, no ... _noise_. Of course there isn't any ... he's behind the closed door of an extra room which serves as his office. Far away from the commotion of the household, lying on a couch, still dressed in day clothes. Black jeans, black sweater. Black ... black. Like death, like mourning. Even the couch was black. He sniffles. He curses himself. This was the second time in a row that he had fallen asleep here. Working too late, drinking too late, avoiding lying in the same bed as Téa.

 _She needs you, you jerk._

 _Right, like a fuckin' hole in the head._

He groans as he becomes aware of a pounding headache. He drank way too much the night before. On the floor was an empty bottle of whiskey, and his glass. Some was still in there, glimmering in the ray of sunshine breaking through the blinds. _Noiseless_. Forcing himself up from the couch, he stretches his muscles out, rubbing the spot on his chest where he'd been shot that one time, so long ago. Téa wasn't recovering very well from her ordeal. Was his past ... getting in the way? She'd been sexually assaulted. He knew this. But… it wasn't the full thing so.. he thought…

 _... God ..._ would she ever look at him the same way? _Fuck._ He picks up the glass of whiskey and drinks the rest of it. Washing his mouth out with alcohol. _Beautiful,_ he thinks sarcastically, rolling his eyes…

...and without personal warning, a surge of anger comes out of nowhere, and he throws the glass against the wall. Smashing it to bits ... Todd the ...

He pulls open the door and finds the place still silent. When he reaches the boys' room, he glances in and sees that they're sleeping. A miracle. Yeah, a miracle that Téa had taken care of them all by herself. He walks away, chastising himself as he peeks into his and Téa's room. She is sleeping, too. Slightly twitching. Walks away. Starr's room was next except unlike the others, it's empty. She spent the night, she'd been downright giddy to be with the boys, with Todd and Téa.

"I love you, daddy," she'd whispered to him as he had covered her up to go to sleep. _I love you._ Such simple words ... yet such strength in them. Why is it _his_ love didn't seem to do anything for Téa's pain? Why is it _her_ love ... had done nothing for him for so long? Why hadn't _anybody's_ love ... done anything for him?

He stops for a moment, thinking he might go get some more whiskey. _Oh god, what are you, stupid? Try some coffee instead._ But then he hears something… Starr's voice. So innocent ... so playful. He kind of laughs, shaking his head. _She_ would be better than coffee, than whiskey, than the sound of his own miserable internal voice.

"Oooh, another picture ..." she says, with a sing-songy sweetness. "It's daddy ... hi, daddy ..."

 _She's talking to the picture. Where is she?_

"Asso...cee...ate... hmm... press." Such a delicate voice, like a fairy. She's just nine, just hit nine, ten around the corner, eleven after that, but she's had a terrible time reading, just like he did when he was a kid. A kind of dyslexia, he had learned all on his own, in prison actually. He probably was thirteen or fourteen when the letters started coming together. When he learned he could close an eye and read better like that…

… and it hits him. She's in the room at the end of the hallway. Lots of junk in there, papers ... files... books, storage. Lots of opportunity to get hurt in there. He picks up his pace ...

"Todd Manning...w...w... one of ... t, h...oh, the 'th' sound... th...reeee ... three men ..."

 _She's reading. What ... what the fuck is she reading?_

Her voice carries down the hallway like the twittering of a sparrow on a spring morning and Todd follows it, finally reaching the doorway to the room. In a single instant, he gathers that Starr has emptied one of the file drawers ... just one of them ... and papers were everywhere ... a mess ... a real mess ... like out of movie, _like out of a freakin' horror movie,_ he thinks.

Starr was reading ... surrounded by filth ... dirty .. rotten filth and she had gotten into it ... had gotten into his papers. She looks up at Todd for a second, giving him a smile… then she looks back at the garbage she's feasting on …

...and with innocent eyes, with innocent lips, she reads. "Dad, look...I can read this. I'm doing better… R...r... rap...ed. Is that a short 'A' or a long 'A'? Hmmm...r… ay… ped. Rrrray-ped… oh… raped. Like taped."

Todd's breath catches in his throat, his eyes about pop out of their sockets at that. "What the ..." She looks back up at him, blinking...so innocently.

"Daddy ... this says that...you… raped M... M ... Mar...tee ... Say ... ber... ook. Marty Saybrooke. Who's that? And what's raped?" Is suddenly dawns on her… "Is that something bad?"

Something snaps inside him. He shakes his head and stares once again at Starr's sweet mouth ... with that word still there ... still dirtying her innocent, oh-so-innocent being. It was like she bent down and kissed dirt, kissed garbage, kissed ... kissed far worse than that.

"Look, here's a picture ... a picture of you," she says… then her smile fades, seeing the look on her father's face. She starts to get the impression that she might have done something she wasn't supposed to do. She looks around at the mess she made. And a heavy, terrible silence fills the room…

"Daddy?"

...then Todd storms over to her, a flood of bitter saliva filling his mouth as he rips the paper violently out of her hands. Starr gasps, her mouth falling open, her eyes widening… frightened; but he doesn't care, she kissed dirt ... she kissed worse ... far worse…

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" he yells, shaking the papers at her. At his precious girl. With the dirty mouth. "DON'T YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT **RESPECT?!**! THESE ARE MY THINGS, STARR! **MINE!"**

Starr trembles violently, barely able to speak. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry, Dad," she says, but to no effect. He has never screamed at her this way. Tears start to form. "Daddy…"

Todd is completely beside himself... Todd ... _Todd the rapist_ ... Todd the father who _was_ a rapist. It's in the past, isn't it?

He doesn't care about her feelings at this point. Who cares about that when his baby girl is looking into the pit of hell, standing at the edge with the stench snaking up to her? She's opened the trap door to hell ... with little hands ... ivory against iron ... and those horrible words have entered her brain, have burned themselves onto her retina. If she closes her eyes, she will still see the letters: T-o-d-d M-a-n-n-i-n-g R-a-p-e-d. Daddy raped.

 _Is that something bad?_

She had to learn a lesson about opening drawers, trap doors, opening things she wasn't ready for, stumbling onto thing HE wasn't ready for.

 _What is raped, Daddy? Huh?!_

Quivering with fury, Todd bends down and lifts his daughter by her upper arms, tiny arms tucked tightly into her body. He lifts her, effortlessly, light as a feather, and he brings her close to him, looking into those sweet hazel eyes the same color as his, and he shakes her, shakes her to drive home his point, more than enough to scare the living hell out of her.

 _Todd ... the monster._

"STAY OUT OF MY THINGS! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! **STAY OUT OF MY THINGS!"**

Starr's legs dangle helplessly… and she visibly cringes at his yelling, at the smell of alcohol on his breath. Tears stream down her face but she is so shocked by her father's heretofore unknown violence that she doesn't cry out loud. Not a sound comes from her.

"DON'T YOU EVER!" Shake. " **EVER!"** Shake. **"** DON'T YOU **EVER** DO THIS AGAIN!" Shake shake shake… "DO YOU HEAR ME?! **DO YOU?!"**

One more for the fuckin' road… shake.

 **"TODD!"**

Téa's horrified voice breaks through like a slap in the face, like the coldest water ... and suddenly, Todd realizes what he's doing. Kid in his hand, he sees Téa's face, her eyes… those beautiful eyes, staring at him in shock. She's coming closer, her arms out to take Starr because now Starr's silent cries have turned into gut-wrenching screams, and he immediately puts her down. No. He doesn't put her down. He plops her onto the floor amidst the trash. Drops her like a fuckin' rock and she falls to the floor. Falls into the filth.

Stumbling backwards, he mumbles, "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry ... oh ... damn it. Starr ..." He tries to reach to her, but instead, she runs to Téa in a desperate frenzy, grabbing onto her waist, and hiding her face.

"I want to go to mommy! **I WANT MOMMY!"** she cries and cries and Téa can only hold her. Looking at Todd ... and the mess of papers ... the newspaper clippings ...

"What's going on? What happened?" she asks, holding Starr tightly, the girl's screams now a sorrowful wail.

Todd shakes his head, the words sort of stuck. He is the worst kind of monster. One who doesn't learn, one who falls right into old, beaten-in ways of behavior. The worst … one who still rapes. It's all he can do to not vomit on the floor, vomit onto all those fucking papers. And a light really goes on at that. Last night. Téa. Yeah, she cried because he was fucking raping her. He holds the burn down.

"She ... uh ... got into my things ... shouldn't have ... done that ..."

"She got into your ... _things_?"

Her voice ... there's a kind of disgust there he has never heard, not like this. This is something else. Obviously. _No shit._ She looks accusingly at him as Starr cries into her clothes, into her belly. Téa rocks her, trying to soothe her, but she's inconsolable. So is Todd. Tears spring forth in his eyes and he stops a wild desire to sob just like Starr is doing. He stops it cold so he's speechless. Téa doesn't understand ... doesn't ... understand.

"Starr, please," he croaks. He walks up to her and tries to touch her, tries to comfort her, but she just screams and moves hard away from him. "Oh, Shorty...Daddy's sorry ... I was wrong ... it's just that-"

Téa snaps, "It's just ... _what_? What could this 'just' be?"

"Daddy's sorry," he says, touching Starr's shoulder.

"GO AWAY! I want my mommy ... I want my mommy!" is all Starr can say. Téa shuts her eyes, hugging her stepdaughter tightly, her own heart breaking, feeling Starr trembling violently in her arms. She looks up at Todd again and says coldly, icily…

"Get outta here, Todd. Just go ... let her calm down and then… we'll deal with this later."

He sees himself in her eyes and it's a goddamn nightmare. Those eyes are daggers in his heart. "But I have to clean up," he says, "... the mess ... I have to." He says these words and he knows it's a child saying them, his own self, cleaning a mess Peter made, and he has to do it. His voice cracks. Bile burns in the back of his throat.

"I'm sorry," he says to Téa. "I'm sorry… for last night."

Téa stands a little taller at that, glaring at him before looking at all the papers, at the mess that's so damned important to him. Starr holds her hand tightly, hiding and crying behind her.

"Fine," she whispers. "We'll go get dressed ... while you clean up. But afterwards ... you better go." She turns with a still sobbing Starr, and they walk out.

Todd sits on a chair in the middle of the room. Puts his head in his hands and cries, too. Makes some noise, chokes on his tears. Makes some kind of a pitiful mess of himself. Never has he lost his temper with Starr like that. _NEVER._ After some minutes, he pulls himself together. Sniffling ... he grabs a trash can. Picks up every single paper relating to the rape of Marty Saybrooke and stuffs them into the can. He hunts for the lighter he keeps in his pocket, fishes for it. Finds it. Peter's lighter, the one he used to torture Todd with... the one he used to help create the monster. He lights the top paper. Lights another paper. As it burns, he walks over the window and opens it. The damned sprinklers would go off if the smoke got too thick. He stands by, the smoke of hell making its way out the window.

 _Into the air ... Todd the rapist ... burning in hell._

* * *

The rain falls, steady and cold...pelting Dean Shelton from all angles as he sprints down the street with his bag of groceries. Keeping his head down, he almost passes right by his street, everything looking the same in the rain-drab gray. He doubles back and heads down the small side street. He fumbles with his keys, holding the keychain up to the lamp by the door. When he finally spots the right key, he opens the door quickly, ducks in, and shuts it just as fast. He rests against it for a moment, sighing...letting the rain drip off and form puddles on the floor.

"I hate England...HATE England. HATE IT," he whispers to himself, as he wipes his wet face with a wet hand. He takes off the hooded slicker, shaking more water off of it...then he looks at the mailboxes. Catching himself, he sighs again, heading up the stairs.

 _Why do you keep looking for mail, moron? Nobody knows you're here._

He steps quietly up the stairs, as quietly as possible considering how creaky the old steps are. He looks at the other doors as he passes them, trying not to make a sound. He'd been there for several weeks, and doubted if anyone else in the building even knew he was there. And he wanted to keep it that way. The last thing he needed was even one friendly, nosy neighbor, wanting to borrow a cup of sugar. He opens his door and steps inside, looking back out at the empty hall before closing it behind him quietly.

He tosses the wet slicker over the chair, as he heads into the kitchen, making a face as he starts to empty the mushy bag full of sopping wet groceries.

"Great," he mutters, setting it all out on the table to dry...except the milk, the eggs and the beer, which he sticks in the mostly empty icebox. Gazing at the long-necked bottles, he grabs one and shuts the fridge. Then he opens the beer by resting the edge of the cap on the counter and slamming the base of his hand down on it, forcing the cap off. He takes a long swig as he walks into the small, sparsely furnished living room… then he looks down at his pant legs, not only soaking wet but cold now, rubbing uncomfortably against his skin. He notices the squishy sound his feet are making, and groans, taking another swig as he squishes over to the desk by the far wall and turns on the lamp. He runs a finger over the touchpad of the laptop sitting there, waking it up as he takes off the wet boots and socks. He moves his finger along the pad, tapping an icon to open a browser.

He walks to the window, and stares out at the dreary city of London...his new home. He looks at the street below, at the cars and people moving back and forth in the rain which seemed to come down in a never-ending stream. He tries to remember if he's seen _one_ sunny day in all the time he's been here… and laughs to himself, unable to recall. It definitely wasn't where he envisioned himself living a few months ago… but then, he didn't like doing that anyway. _Envisioning_ was too much like dreaming… or hoping. And in the kind of business he'd found himself in, it just wasn't a good thing to do.

But as he stands there, he realizes that he's been doing a lot of envisioning lately, despite all his efforts not to. He envisioned a life other than the one he was currently living, and the envisioning always led his thoughts back to one person. He sighs, twitching a little, trying to shake it off… but his thoughts won't roll off as easily as the rain. He keeps hearing her strained, whispering voice:

 _"You listen to me...I will always be grateful for what you did for me, alright? But that's where it ends. You don't know me, and I don't WANT to get to know you. Now you've got it good...you even said, nobody's gonna find you. So don't screw it up now by thinking that you have to...take care of me, or something...DON'T call here again...I mean it."_

Her words had bothered him, gut-punched him. Even now, he still tries to tell himself that he doesn't care, tries to convince himself of it… but her words had hurt, bad, and that had surprised him, proved him wrong, yet again. Just like that night when he still had her in captivity, when he left her alone, and came back to find her being attacked by those… punks. The mere thought of it brings back some of the anger, as he remembers being only too ready to plug them both… wanting to, especially when he saw what they had done to her. Then he bites his lip, remembering carrying her out of there, remembering the feel of her weight in his arms, as she gave over, and let her head rest on his shoulder…

...trusting him… her captor… trusting _him_ to take care of _her._ It was all so screwed up and he knows she is right, knows he shouldn't be calling her, knows he shouldn't be making any contact with her at all, ever… knows he's running the risk of being traced every time he does.

His friends back home had risked a lot to bust him out, and if the cops found him now, all of that would have been for nothing. And on top of that, he knew Téa was trying hard to get on with her life. He was sure it was hard enough for her to forget the nightmare she'd been through, without him calling and reminding her. She has kids now, and needs to spend all her time and energy on that...on her family.

No doubt, calling her was reckless… ill-advised _… stupid as hell._

He knows it… but at the same time, something still bothers him… something about her voice, something in it. It was almost as if _he_ wasn't the one upsetting her, but something… or some _one_ … else. He wonders about Todd Manning, wonders if there is something going on there. He'd done some reading up on the guy before he even went to Llanview the first time, and knew of his history… the criminal convictions, his time in jail, his general reputation as a head case… and real volatile on top of that. Definitely not a Ward Cleaver-type father…

...and he starts to wonder...if _that_ is the _real_ problem. But before he can wonder anymore, he glances at his email page on the computer and he can see there is a new message. Distracted for the moment, he mutters, "Finally...Jesus," as he clicks open the file. "So tell me again, man… why the hell am I here?"

As he reads the message to get his answer, as his steady eyes move back and forth along the words, he rubs his face, contemplative. He reads it again, just to make sure he gets all the details clear then deletes it and logs off, killing the internet connection. He needs to be untraceable. He grabs the beer and gets up, going back to the window, peeking out through the drawn blinds… thinking about what he just read, thinking about who it is he'd be meeting later on that night, thinking about what he'd have to do after that…

...thinking… _envisioning_...

Dean turns from the window suddenly, moving over to the couch with a purpose. He grabs his backpack lying there, and starts digging through it. He pulls out a new cell phone, a burner, one his contact had given him when he first got there, making his calls untraceable… at least, for a while. He taps the tiny phone against the palm of his hand...debating.

* * *

 _"...don't you cry at the moon, little Angels, don't you cry at the darkness ... don't you cry at the light, little Angels ... for it will make you sleep ... it's the heat of truth you must run from ... it's the heat of truth ... sleep now, little Angels... for the sleep of death awaits you ... at the hands of love..."_

* * *

 _Sick._

Tea wipes her mouth on a towel, washing her perspiring face, looking into the mirror for the hundredth time. _Must be a flu,_ she thinks. Why else would she be throwing up? Her babies ... her babies ... waiting for death at the hands of love, of Satan ... of ... their father. She'd spent most of the morning trying to appease Starr with little result and had watched an extremely depressed Todd march out of the penthouse on a mission, still unforgiven by his daughter.

 _A mission to where? To what?_

She steps into the hallway, and peeks in on Starr who is finally sleeping, thank goodness. It is around one in the afternoon, now. She walks down the steps, glancing behind her because she feels something cold brush by. _My god,_ she thinks, and starts to cry again. _My god,_ is Todd really capable of the unthinkable? He had shaken Starr ... pretty hard, like she was nothing, like she was a rabbit to his wolf. The way he held that tiny girl in his hands, gripping her by her arms that way, like she wasn't his little girl, his beloved _Shorty_ ... like ... like ...

The image comes back, mowing right into her. Satan ... that coat flapping in the wind, that laugh, the way he held her boys by their necks. Shaking them.

 _"They are MINE!"_

Todd had yelled that to Starr ... for her to keep out of his things. _HIS things ..._ he'd completely lost it. And she had never seen him direct that kind of anger at Starr. Ever. She'd gone back to look at the mess but he'd cleaned up. Burned papers in the trash can. She'd have to ask him later what they were.

The boys swing happily in their swings. Happy angels. She kneels to them and they both laugh. They smile so brightly that Téa's heart clenches with a love for them she never thought possible. Then a thought suddenly pops into her head. One that sends a jolt through her, that is glaringly out of the ordinary.

She wants to pick up her boys and leave.

Something ... is pulling at her, nagging at her soul.

 _Mijos chulitos, mijos lindos ... angelitos perfectos. Hijos mios. Mine ... mine ..._

Closing her eyes, Téa listens to the music playing on the swings. She can practically feel the wind on a Puerto Rican beach sting her skin, bite at her face, whip through her hair. She can practically hear the voice of Abuelita, assuring her of the power of love, of how her boys are going to grow up strong and healthy. She opens her eyes again, and sees Brendan, who has stopped his cooing and is simply watching her, like always, watching her with old eyes, watching her with empathy.

 _Strange,_ she thinks, how can an infant sense so much?

She gives her boy a sad smile. "It's okay, Brendan, I'm okay. We're gonna be okay." Just then, the phone rings. Téa stands up quickly and runs to pick up …

"Todd?" she says, with the image in her head, the image of Todd, standing somewhere, cold, alone, and heartbroken. God, she's worried about him.

"No. It's me."

And just like that, the image vanishes, popping like a bubble, as she recognizes the voice. _Ohmygod,_ she thinks, holding back a swell of hurt that is rising quickly. Is it just a coincidence that he calls today, right now? He's the one who had saved her from evil, saved her from … rapists. Had carried her like a baby …

 _...no._ _ **NO.**_ _Snap out of it...snap out of it, right now. You don't need him._

"I told you not to call here. Are you deaf? Or just...stupid?" she says, the swell of hurt becoming frustration.

"Well, I'm not deaf," he replies, flatly, calmly, god, always so calm. Téa turns around, looking at her boys, knowing the conversation is being taped by RJ and that at some point, Todd's going to hear it. He would hear her… talking to her enemy… _his_ enemy… and she knows what that would do to him.

 _End it. NOW._

"I'm hanging up now."

"Hold on. Write this down."

"Excuse me?" she snaps back.

"Please...just write this down."

"Look, whatever you're doing, just STOP, okay? I don't want anything from you ... you've done enough."

From across the ocean, on the edge of his couch, in his sad flat, Dean hears her say one thing with words … but her voice, her tone, it's saying something else. He pauses for a moment, then rattles off numbers.

Instinctively, and before she can tell herself not to, Téa reaches for the pen and pad on the desk, and writes down what she hears. Years of being a lawyer, always writes things down … _ALWAYS._

"Stay away from me!" she whispers, harshly. But dead air is all she gets in response. She listens...and he has already hung up. She hangs up too, looking at her baby boys again. Their swings have wound down, and both of them have drifted off to sleep. Dean saved her once... saved them... from rapists. He saved her from Satan's workers. Saved them from death. Would he save her… and them… from Satan himself?

She looks at the pad, at the random string of numbers. Seemingly random. She stares at them, trying to figure out what they mean. Couldn't be a phone number… too many digits. She moves to her purse, pulling out a cell phone from her purse. She knows it's not bugged because it's not hers. It belongs to Carlotta. She accidentally left it here.

 _Should I even be doing this?_

Sniffling, she dials the numbers … and as she expects, she gets an operator's voice, happily telling her that she doesn't know how to dial properly. She clicks off...thinking...staring at the numbers...getting another idea. She tries them again… but this time, she dials the international code first. And sure enough...it rings. Téa feels the flutters in her chest as it rings again… and again… and then…

"Knew you'd figure that out pretty quick," he says. His voice was so unique... like sugar rolling about on your tongue, like a drink of warm honeyed milk running through your veins. And Téa starts to cry immediately, silently, gripping the phone in her hands. She is so confused now ... this is breathtakingly confusing. She feels the pain of Todd making love to her ... out of nowhere it came. He had been too rough ... he had been ... too needy of her ... too ... too …

 _STAY OUT OF MY THINGS! MY THINGS!_

"Where are you?" she whispers...her voice barely registering.

"Well...let's just say Europe for now."

"You shouldn't be doing this. You're gonna get caught."

"I'm not gonna get caught. Don't worry about it."

Téa slaps a hand over her eyes, realizing, knowing, _ohgod...what am I doing..._ "Why...why do you insist on calling me? Huh? What do you want from me?"

There's a slight pause… and all of a sudden, Téa senses how difficult this is for him, too. "I want to see you."

"Oh, jesus...no...NO," she says unable to hide the fact that she's crying. It just comes out…

… and on the other end, Dean hears her cries...and being unable to do anything else, he gets up and paces.

"Téa, what's going on over there? What's wrong? Tell me ... please."

She shakes her head...and wipes her eyes. "Nothing. Nothing YOU can fix...nothing you can carry me away from."

"Oh yeah? Try me."

"No. My life is none of your business. So stop trying to get involved."

Dean stops in the middle of the room, staring up at the ceiling in frustration for a second. Then he takes a breath. "Listen to me. I'm not trying to make trouble for you… but I can hear you crying. I heard you crying the last time. Now I want you to tell me what's going on."

"Why?" Téa replies, pacing around now herself. "What difference does it make? You CAN'T help me."

"Wrong. I CAN help you… and I WANT TO." Téa stops in front of the boys' swings and stares at them, her sleeping angels. Dean listens to the silence and knows she's listening. "Look, I OWE you, okay? What you went through is MY FAULT. So if I can help you now, please… LET ME. Let me help you. Tell me what you need ... and I'll do it… whatever it is."

"Why are you being ... so nice to me?" she suddenly asks, still staring at the boys.

"I just told you."

"Ohgod..." Téa sighs, as she sits down on the couch. So tired… so confused… so worried, so… in need of help. "I just ... I don't get it. I don't get anything anymore. I don't understand what's happening with anything." That cold breeze again ... it washes over her. The image again pops before her eyes, dancing about her head ...

Todd as the Devil, holding his children in his hands ... killing them. Crushing them. And all of a sudden, all Téa can think is that she has to leave. That she has no choice. Todd has exposed his true self to her, to his own daughter.

"I think… I think I have to leave ... for my own sanity. I think I have to," she finally blurts out...unable to see Dean's face on the other end...the surprise...the glad surprise. Dean swallows hard, still trying to register the fact that she is actually reaching out to him. Then his mind starts racing, formulating a plan.

"Uh...okay...okay. Téa, listen… are you listening?"

She nods, her eyes still fixed on the boys. "Yeah."

"Okay. Listen to me very carefully. I'm gonna get you outta there… and you're gonna come here… babies and all, I don't care. I'm gonna set everything up as soon as I we end this call. Dial me back in an hour. You hear me?"

 _I am insane,_ Téa says to herself. _I'm as insane as Todd is._ Maybe this is how he felt towards Peter? Sticking by him ... trying to love his abuser? _What the hell is wrong with me?!_

"One hour, Téa. Alright? Yeah?"

 _I've lost it,_ she thinks… then she hears herself say, "Fine," as she clicks the cell phone off. She stares at the sleeping twins. Her hands are shaking. She's sweating. She drops the phone, runs to the kitchen and throws up in the sink.

 _Sick ... sick…_

 _Angels of mine, I am your protector. I will tear apart anyone or anything that endangers you. I will die protecting you, throwing myself in front of a fierce lion, jumping before a bearing-down train ... all to protect you. I will run like hell with you ... to protect you. I am your mother…_

 _...I am ... your mother._

 **To be continued…**


	7. Chapter 7

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 7**

Dean enters the smoky pub, shaking off the rain again. He looks around, his eyes adjusting to the dim light. In the very back, he sees a dark-haired man sitting against the wall, drinking alone. Dean squints, unable to see clearly… but his gut tells him that's the man he's here to meet. So he turns toward the bar, holding up one finger to the bartender. The bartender nods, grabs a glass and pours him a pint. Dean takes the beer and leaves money on the bar, before he walks toward the back of the pub. The dark-haired man looks up as Dean walks up to him, stopping a few feet away. The dark-haired man sits back, looking him up and down.

"Got somethin' to say, do ya?" he asks, in a deep, heavily accented voice. Dean takes a sip of his beer, nodding.

"Yeah...this country of yours really sucks."

The man stares at him blankly for a moment then he cracks up, getting to his feet to shake his guest's hand. "Well, why doncha sod off back to America then?" he says. Dean laughs quietly and the two men share a short hug, slapping each other on the back. They both sit down, giving each other a good once-over. The dark-haired man sits back, settling into the hardwood bench.

"So...how're ya? Been a long time."

Dean takes another long sip. "Oh, y'know, hangin' in there. Hating all this fuckin' rain. How 'bout you, man?"

The dark-haired man tips his head slightly, shrugging. "Surviving. I'll tell ya, though...I was glad to get this gig. I really need the cash."

Dean nods again. "Yeah. Listen, man...thanks for calling me in. You didn't have to do that."

"Well, if they wanna get this done right, they gotta pay for the right people, ya know. I'm not about to do this with some bloody kid who doesn't know his arse from a hole in the ground."

"Yeah, but you gotta know… I'm still hot from that fiasco back home. You coulda found someone a little less… high-profile."

The dark-haired man leans in toward him. "Quite a mess, wasn't it?"

Dean leans in as well, running a finger along the rim of his glass, his mind suddenly far away. "Yeah. Me and my bright ideas."

"Gotta admit, it's not like you to fuck up like that. What happened?"

Dean looks up, then shakes his head, sighing. "What can I say. Seemed easy enough. Thought I had it all covered, y'know? But then it just got totally outta control, the whole thing… and to be honest, I still don't know how it happened."

The dark-haired man nods, slowly. "Mmmmm...well… underestimating the situation'll do it every time."

Dean quirks, and adds, "I don't think it was the situation so much...as the people."

"Ah, well, there you go, then. Doesn't matter how long you been at this game, you can never tell what people are gonna do. NEVER. I wouldn't beat myself up over that."

Dean stares at him, with a seriousness that makes the dark-haired man take notice. "Yeah, well, worst part is that somebody got hurt because of me. Somebody who shouldn't have been… hurt… and I DO beat myself up over THAT."

The dark-haired man studies him again, getting a little concerned now. "You sure you're up for this, lad? I mean, no offense, but if you're gonna help me, you gotta be on your game. Otherwise… a LOT of people might get hurt… and YOU might get us both killed."

He watches carefully, as Dean looks away, taking a moment to think about it. Then Dean returns his friend's gaze. "Sorry," he says, "I don't mean to make you nervous. I'm up for it and I'm not gonna space on you. Don't worry...my game's still on."

The dark-haired man lingers on his eyes, deciding for himself, then nods, banging his empty glass on the table. Across the room, the bartender looks up at him, acknowledging the signal for another drink. The dark-haired man leans in toward Dean again, closer this time, resting on his elbows.

"Alright then but let's get something straight right now," he says, his voice low. "If I even START to think you're not pulling your weight, I'm cuttin' ya loose. We clear?"

"Clear."

"Excellent," the dark-haired man replies, as the bartender brings over two more pints. He pays the bartender, waiting for him to walk off before speaking again. "Now… you got the email, right?"

Dean sits back, starting on his new beer. "Yeah."

"Good. I'll be sending you another by tomorrow morning, after I find out what's what. Then I'll meet you for tea later on. We'll go over the whole thing then."

Dean cracks up at that. "You guys and your fuckin' tea. What's up with that? Is it like a law or something? Even the dudes have to have tea everyday?"

The dark-haired man grins at him. "Ah, come on now. It'll be fun. Besides, I know how much you love wearin' dresses. You can even wear your little lace gloves and carry that new handbag."

"Mmmm… only if you're all gussied up, too," Dean quips back. Both of them share a laugh. Then it dies down and both of them work on their beers for a moment. Dean glances around, then looks back at the dark-haired man. "Listen, man," he starts, slouching in his seat. "How long, do you figure… before we hit it?"

The dark-haired man makes a face, thinking. "Dunno. If I had to guess, I'd probably say...three more days, four at the most. Why?"

Dean takes another sip, then a deep breath. "I got a small favor to ask." The dark-haired man cocks an eyebrow, as Dean leans in toward him, lowering his voice. "I need to get some people over here."

"What people? What for?"

Dean takes another deep breath. "I have this...friend...back in the States, and-"

The dark-haired man cuts him off. "Have you lost your fuckin' mind? I can't do that."

"Wait...just hear me out, okay?" Dean asks. "She's been through a lotta bad shit lately. I mean REALLY bad shit. She just had twins, and her old man's a head case… violent, abusive, know what I mean?"

The dark-haired man rolls his eyes, hearing the word 'she.' "Well, I'm very sorry about all that. But like I said, I CAN'T DO what you're askin'."

"You can if you take it out of my cut."

The dark-haired man does a take at that… then he half-laughs. "You're not fuckin' around here, are ya? You REALLY want to ship your girlfriend AND her bloody kids all the way here."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"Whatever. You have any idea what kind of money you're talkin' about?"

Dean sits back, nodding. The dark-haired man sits back as well, looking at him in amazement. "So...you're willing to give up at least HALF of your bloody cut for this woman and her pups."

Dean raises his eyebrows at that, then shrugs a little. "I got no choice, man. I owe her... owe her big… and this is probably the last chance I'll have to do anything for her. I mean, once the job's done, I gotta disappear." He starts, his eyes focusing on the dim candlelight, dancing on his glass. "And I can't do that without knowing she's gonna be alright. Now I can do this without you… but since I don't have any connections over here, it'd take too long. She's gotta get outta there NOW."

The dark-haired man sighs heavily… and Dean looks up at him, waiting a few seconds before speaking again. "Look, man, I know this isn't just something you can take care of with a phone call. I know how much work we're talking about. But it's IMPORTANT… and like I said, I'll give up whatever I gotta give up to get it done," he says, leaning in again. "So will you help me, or what?"

The dark-haired man stares at him for a moment...then shakes his head. "You're outta your fuckin' mind, Shelton, I'm tellin' ya. Even IF I help you, you think that husband of hers is just gonna sit back and LET you take his family from him? Especially if he's as nuts as you say he is? Y'know what she's gonna be then? Baggage...baggage around YOUR fuckin' neck. That really what you want?"

Dean takes that in then shrugs again. "Like I said, I got no choice."

"Fuck that. You always have a choice… and you're makin' a bad one," the dark-haired man fires back.

Dean checks his watch then looks back at him. "I hear what you're saying and normally, I would agree with you. But the fact is that I won't be able to focus on the job until this is done."

"That so? Then y'know what? Instead of playing travel agent to your fuckin' girlfriend, I should just cut ya loose, right now."

"Well, that's your call, man."

The dark-haired man looks away again. Dean watches him chew on his lip, thinking hard for a good, long time… then he looks back at him. "She got a passport?" he finally asks.

"Dunno. I'll check."

The dark-haired man nods, finishing off his beer. "Go back to the flat, then," he says, getting up. "You'll hear from me."

Dean nods back, then offers a hand as he starts to walk past him. "Thanks, man."

The dark-haired man hesitates for a moment, then shakes it, then grips Dean's hand tighter, pulling him in close. "You better not make me sorry I did this," he says before letting go.

Dean watches him stroll out of the pub, back out in the rain. Then he sighs and sits there for a few minutes, just staring at the empty glass, thinking as he rubs his nearly-bald head, hair shorn to the nub. He smooths his goatee. Then he checks his watch again and grabs his coat, heading back out into the rain himself.

* * *

The prison walls of the women's section in Statesville boasted years of oppression, generations of inmates having left their auras and thoughts in the form of crude graffiti and a stubborn stench of mildew. In fact, the pall is so great that when Roseanne thinks about it, she grows convinced the damp brick will suffocate her in her sleep, that she will literally dissolve into oblivion beneath crumbling grey and that there would be no record of her other than as a prison number and a bad memory. Because of all that, her sleep is often interrupted and she thinks maybe her dark arts will suffer under the weight of so much self-pity.

Opening her eyes to late afternoon boredom, her nap ruined, she looks across the way at Oba who is shaking her head as she stands tall against the metal bars, smoking a cigarette with enviable assuredness.

"Why don't you tell me what da trouble is?" The tall woman asks. "I can see da' chaos around you. Upset energy."

"You could say that."

"Tell me."

"I know the children's names- I can focus better- but I don't know if what I'm doing is even working."

"Have you asked da right people?"

The tenor of Oba's voice has a way of inspiring concentration, enthusiasm. Roseanne gets up off her cot and leans against the bars of her own cell, studying her new friend's stance. She mimics it.

"Can I have one?" she asks, pointing to the cigarette lying seductively between Oba's long fingers. The woman nods, leaning over and picking up her pack of cigarettes from the bed. After patting one stick out, she tosses it to Roseanne who quickly lights it. Sucks in the smoke deeply and smiles as if she'd taken a long sip of water after being in a desert for such a very long time.

"Thanks ... and to answer your question, I tried to get some information, but it wasn't enough."

"You t'ink d'ere is a weak link? Is d'ere a spirit who might be intruding?"

"A spirit?"

"Yes. Sometimes d'ere is interference, a sheer in da way of light coming t'rough glass ... smoke blocking a picture. Do you get me?"

"I think so."

"Love sometimes does it." Roseanne takes another long draw off the cigarette and thinks about it. Who could protect Téa with such ... love? Who would be her cover? Sniffling, she twists her mouth in disgust, stretching out her neck muscles, and spits out the name:

"Todd. Her devoted husband. A monster, but someone Téa seems to ... _idolize_. Whatever that shit is about."

"Hmmm ... yes ... you could be right." Oba gazes at Roseanne thoughtfully, licking her lips at one point, scratching her throat with cat-like care. "You are afraid of him."

"No, not at all."

"Now you lie to me. Don't lie to your teacher." Oba smiles. Letting out an aggravated grunt.

Roseanne answers, "Fine. Yes, he scares me. I told you, he's a rotten bastard who has a record longer than my arm yet I'm in here and he's out there."

"So maybe you need to disrupt his loyalty. Maybe, he needs a little push."

"You mean work the art on him?"

"Yes. T'ink about it, t'ink about his weakness, 'bout his fears. T'ink, cher, hard."

Roseanne looks downwards and breathes in deeply, breathes in the dank smells, the dense air. Tries to let go of the closed-in feelings by concentrating on her new-found work. Yes, the more she reflects, the more she believes that Téa is _too_ protected by Todd's fierce loyalty and love. He himself is probably a powerful spirit whose energy is equally as dark as Roseanne's, as any person's venturing into this world of mystical control.

 _Think ... of his fears ... of his weaknesses ..._

And it comes to her ... so simple ... so clear …

 _Love is your weakness, your fear. It's the viper that creeps and crawls within you, and without. Love is your mystery ... it's your solution. And what form of love frightens you the most yet also stirs you more than any other? What kind of love has led you to paths of condemnation? What kind of love torments you ... what kind of love can destroy you? What kind of love do you place on a pedestal ... what kind of love do you see as your salvation? Simple ... easy ... it's love in the form of a woman ..._

"I can see it," Roseanne mutters.

"Can you, girl?"

"Yes ... I think so."

"Mold it ... play wit' it ... t'ink about it. T'ink of him."

"Yes ..." Roseanne closes her eyes and brings to shape in her mind Todd's eyes, his mouth, his face. His physical body then follows, coming into clear focus, his slender muscles, his strength. His history comes forth as well, his own chaotic energy that spins around him. It was a _woman,_ she thinks, who made him crazy enough to rape; it was a _woman_ who made him crazy enough to cause untold amounts of damage on Llanview. From what Téa had revealed about him, it has always been a _woman_ who motivates him to be better, who paralyzes him, who brings out his worst, and his best.

Yes, and surely, with his being a rapist, sex is always involved ...

"Concentrate on his existence and you will find yourself free of da walls around you. You will be lifted to where you want to be. You will cause da air to move and rumble ... and you will control everyt'ing ..." Oba says, her voice floating around Roseanne like a breeze.

"Everything ..."

"T'ink it ... and it will be real ..."

* * *

The whisky stings his throat as it slides down, the glass bottle against his lips cool and comforting. Swallowing, Todd leans back against the marble mausoleum wall ... yeah ... the final resting place of that sonofabitch Victor Lord, creator of half the curse that graces Todd's whole being right now. He tips back the bottle again, finishing the last drops. Sniffs at the burn and shakes his head unconsciously in response.

 _Christ_ , he thinks, how could he have done what he did to Starr? _God ... what the hell was that?_

"She said those words," he groans, trying to explain to the fates, the air, the gods, "my baby girl said the most vile words in the whole goddamn world, filth on her precious lips ... on her mouth ... filth ... filth ..."

He sits inside the darkened crypt, strings of light breaking in through openings along the tops of the walls surrounding him. Dust dances about in the rays and he follows them with his eyes. He slurs when he speaks because he's drunk himself into some kind of place where he thinks he can understand what happened, where he thinks he can justify it, reason through it, excuse himself for the inexcusable.

But it's not working. There is no such place, there is only further self-condemnation.

"Awwww ... shit ..."

He tosses the bottle aside. Rubs his face roughly and represses a sudden need to cry this out. The memory of Starr's terrified voice calling for Blair was unbearable. The memory of her body in his hands ... the ease of causing her so much pain was ... sickening. _Why? WHY?_ Because she said it, she read the words and they had come slithering out of her mouth: _Todd Manning raped._

Somewhere inside her brain, she learned the truth about her father, about the man she believes in, learned her father is a rapist. And he showed her, didn't he?! Boy, he showed her.

 _Stay outta my things ... yeah. Stay outta my life._

"I'm sorry ... I'm so sorry," he cries, at last. Through blurred vision, he looks at his outstretched legs, tasting those salty tears, looks down at his mussed clothes and wonders how he's ever going to make up for his loss of control with Starr? Téa ... she'd been horrified. Yelled at him to stop. And when he looked at her, there was no mistaking the fear on her face, real fuckin' fear, real goddamn concern. Téa ...

God, he'd been wanting her because he missed her so much and he remembers how she wasn't responding to him last night, not in the way he needed her to, and now ... she was going to hate him even more.

" _Will_ she hate me? Nahhh ... she been hatin' me ... and today jus' ... wrapped it all up, nice n'neat with a bow ... a pretty ... fuckin' bow. Why would she respond to a rapist, Manning? Ha! She went through something, you jerk, and ... I'm here, reminding her of what happened every damn minute. Every goddamn minute. She don't need me, boys don't need me… my girl ... my ... girl, she REALLY don't need me."

He sniffles and feels so young ... and so old ... and so thoroughly deprived of love, undeserving of love. "Like me this way, Pop... Pops? Both of you. Awwww don't I deserve this, ain't it jus' perfect? The curses of the Mean Old ... Daddies."

Shaking his head, he laughs pitifully, "Ohhhh yeah, finally did it ... finally showed that little thing who's boss ... right? Just like Peter used to ..."

He slides down even further along the wall, until he's staring up at that light coming through the ceiling, those dust particles floating, mesmerizing. So free ... dancing ... unthinking, unfeeling, un-being. Nonentities. As he watches the symphonic movement of the bits of nothing, out of nowhere, in that moment of quiet misery, the scent of magnolias drifts over him. He hums along with the swirling aroma, remembering a kiss of soft lips on his, a whispered admission of love ... ohhhh it felt good ... it was wrong and it was right. He touches his chest, rubbing it lightly, right where his heart was. Was it beating, he wondered?

 _Yes, it is._

"Beating long enough to kill someone," he mumbles.

 _Beating long enough to love someone._

The scent intensifies and Todd sits up, the pain inside of him lulled by the alcohol, by his thoughts of being loved in return. In the faint light, he sees a figure, feminine and ethereal. She's faceless ... but there's no doubt of her womanliness nor of her inherent beauty. He smiles at the image.

"Who 're you?" he asks drunkenly.

 _I'm here to love you, I'm here to ease your pain, the way you want._

"How'z 'at possible? If you knew me, you'd run ... run like a bitch."

 _Let me kiss you, let me touch you. You're so hurt, so lonely. And you're so beautiful. A beautiful man, a real man. The kind who makes a woman ... feel. The kind who brings the most hidden parts of a woman out into the open. A man who shouldn't be forgotten or left behind._

"You been drinkin'? Wha's wrong with you?"

 _I'm your dream, I'm your reality. Let me come to you, let me love you._

In the murky air of the tomb, the ghostly female image moves closer to him, gliding slowly, weightless. Long black hair flutters in a strange breeze and she lights up the space around her with a light he hasn't ever seen before. She's heavenly, magical, and he wants to touch her. He doesn't understand why he feels this way ...

… but he definitely wants it.

Once she's near him, he closes his eyes and sighs, dreaming of her, dreaming of being with her. It would feel good to be embraced by a woman now, to be kissed and held. And if it couldn't be Téa ... well ... why not his own invented angel ... ?

 _Yes, I'm here for you. You are a man who deserves love, who deserves admiration, who deserves complete loyalty. You ... you ... nobody else should be the center of her world._

"Yeah ... yeah, you're right. Should be me. Been too long alone ... 'cept she don't want me, she don't need me."

He slumps at the painful truth that Téa no longer wants him. Maybe she will never want him again.

 _Your woman ... she's not good enough for you. I am, though. I won't ever turn you away. Tell me your darkest desires and I will do it; tell me you deepest fear and I will abate it. Tell me ... tell me what you want._

"You ... I want you."

The woman smiles and moves still closer to him, rubbing up against him, stirring him in the way he wants, her whole shadowy self all over him in that way he needs. He is achingly hard now, and he rubs himself, his eyes rolling backwards at the sensation. He inches back because she is gently urging him so and he follows her direction, lying all the way back. She climbs on top of him and he lets her run her hands up and down his body, touching him everywhere and nowhere ... it's real, and it's not... it's a dream, and it isn't. Breathy kisses wet his lips and his tongue reaches for hers, his hands reach for her.

"Love me," he growls.

Her voice, strong and syrupy, answers, "I will love you ..." She has come out of his dream right into his reality.

"I might hurt you," he says.

"You can hurt me, you can love me. It's all the same. You are MY light, you are MY power ... your strength is mine."

Todd shudders with sexual tension and rolls over on top of the phantom-like woman, holding her hands high above her head. Not recognizing her facial features, embracing her anonymity, he violently presses his mouth to hers, his tongue like a sword, deep and penetrating. He's fighting his hunger while fully taking what she's offering. Her legs wrap around him and he can feel her pull, her drawing out of him his will to stand on his own, to believe in himself - to forgive.

But god, he can't. Forgiveness is fucking impossible in any direction.

He's turned on, hard as hell, ready to do anything, not caring, just wanting to feel some kind of human connection, to be reminded that he is a man, that he can be loved, and that he is potent as a living, thinking, breathing human, above all. He wants so badly NOT to be the monster, the out-of-control bastard...

Except ... with thoughts of love, with his deepest insecurities coursing through him, other thoughts come forth as well. Much… darker… thoughts.

He grabs her thigh and jerks her to him, his other hand tightening on her wrists above her head, pulling on them, stretching her arms further upwards. He grinds his hips in between her legs, forcefully. The female creature gasps at his intense grip of her, at the fact she cannot move, and he can see her react to something she's obviously seeing on his face ...

"Wha's the matter?" he rumbles, the barest of grins playing at the corners of his mouth. "Don't like it this way? Didn't I say if you knew me, you'd run?"

Her mouth opens to speak but nothing comes out, giving an appearance of trepidation and Todd suddenly knows he's in control of this interplay. And that sets him on fire as it always has.

"You're scared," he huffs, eyes following the lines of her body beneath his.

"No, no, you misread me."

"I misread _nothing_." He looks directly at her, into her. "You're a pathetic bitch who thinks she can overpower me, who thinks she can become stronger if she tames the beast. I know you. I've fucked your kind before. I've _wrecked_ your kind before."

He jerks her to him again and she grunts at the pain his fingers are causing on her thigh. He then thrusts so fiercely against her that she yelps like a stepped-on puppy and he moans in response. He looks at her while rubbing his strained erection in slow purposeful strokes.

"Trust me," he rasps, "the 'tamer' always loses." The slur in his words surprisingly lessens, his voice deep and rumbling deep, the threat unambiguous.

She struggles in his hold of her, not denying that he is skillfully striking her where it counts, forcing her to widen her legs, to use his movements for her own pleasure. "As I said," she huffs, "you misread me. I am here for YOU."

While her words are submissive, her intent is not. Her eyes narrow and with the skill of an experienced hunter, her spirit tears right into him, reaches into his core to seek out his most vulnerable of emotions. At that, his head knocks back and it's his turn to take a hard breath at her ripping past his tough exterior. He releases her wrists at it to hold himself up and away from her.

"You're nothing but a boy," she says softly, taking his long hair into her hands, urging him to look at her again. "A hurt, ruined, cursed boy. Your woman sees it and she runs. She wants protection but you can't give it to her. She wants to be free of her pain, but you can't release her because you are too broken. So she looks elsewhere for that protection now and in doing so she betrays you. She ... is not worthy of you, of your endless suffering. She's only worthy of your punishment."

He weakens, weighing the feminine shadow. He figures he's dreaming, still, ... and this is his heart talking about the only woman he loves on this earth. It's his anger, he assumes, his pitiful, pathetic, selfish-as-all-get-out anger.

 _She betrays you._

He's losing, he knows. Yeah ... okay, he'd been very hurt by Téa. He had made love with her and she ended up in tears and he knew it had to do with what had happened to her when she was in captivity with that Shelton guy… and he kinda thinks he wasn't that, y'know, sensitive to her body or her feelings or some shit like that and... and no matter the explanation and psychological truth, it still hurt like hell to have her reject him the way she did, to see her crying like he was the worst person in earth.

It wasn't fair ... it wasn't fair. And he took all that injustice out on his girl, his precious angel, Starr. It wasn't ... _fair_.

 _She betrays you._

The vision then raises herself to meet his lips with hers and he lets the hallucination continue. Her kiss invites more of him, demands more. However ... there is something ... something infinitely curious ...

"And what makes you less worthy of my punishment?" Todd asks.

"Because you rule over me. I am at your mercy. I am everything you dream of, everything you hope for."

"Except one thing ... you aren't real." He chuckles, smoothing out the whisper of cloth covering her body, brushing along her breast. He moves his fingers under the sheer to pull at her nipple, to palm it and delight in its responsiveness. He presses his whole body on hers …

"Aren't I?" She buries her head into his neck and suckles on his skin until he has to pull away, feeling the bite, turned on by it. Grinning, the specter sighs at his frenzied expression. "I'm everything you desire. I will never cry out in pain unless you want me to. I will never cry at your touch unless you want me to. You ... are in control with me. I am predictable, I will never ... _surprise_ you."

Her legs hold onto him and her arms envelop him and he feels so relieved and so excited and eager to do more...

He lets a low moan escape and he smiles, the barest of smiles. Then he finds himself laughing and the woman flickers like in a movie, the picture interrupted.

"Every man's fantasy ... even I have them. And how funny that my fantasy reminds me ... strangely ... of a ... _Delgado_." The woman stills, her dancing movements slow, as his fingers trace the outline of her features. He senses a weakness on her part.

"Hmmm," he murmurs, "How strange."

The tentative tone returns to the ghost's voice. "Share with me your thoughts, my lover."

Furrowing his brows, his face shows pain, but it isn't genuine. Then he pouts pitifully, exaggeratedly, "I don't understand why she would turn on me. How could she do that? It hurts ... so much."

"Because her spirit is damaged, her spirit is tainted." The voice seems to gain strength.

"Yeah," Todd sniffs, "she's bad ... she's ... so ... bad."

He closes his eyes and moves his hand to the angel's throat, his fingers resting there. The thumps of a pulse beat against his skin and her breath seems to strain. "What's wrong?" he asks gently, his eyes steely and firmly looking into hers. "You still afraid? Don't be. It'll be easy to love me, to be mine..."

"Easy ..." she whispers.

"Yeah ... come on ... _love me._ "

 **To be continued...**


	8. Chapter 8

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 8**

Starr walks into the master bedroom after her long nap, having cleaned up and changed her clothes. She sees Téa on the bed, playing with Evan's feet so she runs over and jumps on the bed, immediately joining in. She notices a notepad there, with something scribbled on it… and she makes a face, trying to see what it says. But Téa moves it away just then, putting it on the bedside table nonchalantly, so that Starr quickly forgets about it, turning her attention back to her brother. Téa backs off a little, and watches them play, watches Starr blowing raspberries on Evan's belly, watches him giggling like crazy. And suddenly, Téa starts to get that nagging, nauseous feeling in her stomach again. Until now, she hadn't realized that she would soon be separating the boys from their sister.

 _...God...she'll be so hurt..._

And Todd… would be hurt even worse. She imagines him finally being brave enough to come home and face her, only to find an empty house. Starr would be back at Blair's and Téa would be gone, the boys would be gone, his family _gone._ She shuts her eyes, feeling the pain for him, before it even happens. It will be devastating, and god only knew what he might do after that. Starr looks up at her, noticing her worried face.

"You okay?"

Her voice snaps Téa out of her train of bad thoughts, and she nods but more out of impulse. "Yeah...yeah, I'm fine," she replies, too quickly, and not very convincingly, reaching out and smoothing her hair.

"Can I ask you something?" Starr then asks her, cautiously.

"Sure."

Starr takes a deep breath before speaking, afraid of the reaction she'll get but still needing to know. "What's 'raped'?"

Téa's mouth drops open at that, at that horrible, disgusting word coming from such a young person. She rubs her face, as Starr waits for the answer. "Where did you see that?"

"I read it … and saw Daddy's picture. From a newspaper. It said he 'raped' … um… and a name of Marty… Saybrooke. Is that something bad?"

Téa closes her eyes a moment. My god, that's what Todd responded to. He saw her reading a newspaper, the article itself, his history, his most horrible act on record. Didn't excuse anything. But… still...

Téa takes a deep breath as well, not knowing how to begin or even if she should. "Umm… well… yeah, uh… rape is something very bad." She starts, suddenly remembering, suddenly hearing her own voice in her head.

 _"...oh, go ahead… isn't that the only thing left? Throw me down… why don't you just rape me, huh? Rape me like you did Marty… just go ahead and rape me..."_

She shuts her eyes tightly for a second as if she could feel the white-hot pain of getting punched in the face all over again. Jesus, it's a harsh memory. She'd been exposed to the darkest part of him. Sure, maybe she brought it out, provoked it, but the fact that he did it proved to her forever, that he was never very far away from that side of him.

Starr watches innocently as Téa shakes off the too-easy recollection.

"Yes, Starr, it's something very bad and is something your dad needs to talk with you about… but not right now. Okay?"

Starr blinks back at her, taking that in… then she nods. "'kay," she whispers.

"...ummm… wanna call your mom now?"

Starr thinks for a moment then nods again. Téa smiles, touches the girl's cheek with the back of her hand, and reaches behind her for the phone. She dials, then gives the phone to Starr who takes it as she sits up, the phone looking so big next to her small face. Téa sits up too, picking Evan up and sitting him up in her lap then she hears the muffled sound of someone picking up on the other end.

"Hi Mommy," Starr says. Téa watches her as she picks at the hem of her shirt, listening. "Can you come get me?" she asks, then pauses again. "Nothing...I just wanna come home."

Téa hears Blair's distant, worried voice, saying something. Starr sighs. "Okay...hold on," she says, handing the phone back to her.

Téa takes a deep breath as she puts the phone to her ear. "Hi, Blair."

"What happened? What's wrong?"

"Uh..." Téa starts, watching as Starr gets off the bed and walks out, undoubtedly to pack her bag. She lets out a long sigh, wanting to sound as calm as possible.

"Is she sick?" Blair suddenly asks.

"No, no, nothing like that. It's just that… uh… Todd… he, uh… he kind of lost his temper with her this morning… and, um..." She stuttering, hearing the silence on the other end, knowing that Blair has probably already figured it out. "...He scared her pretty good."

Silence.

Téa shuts her eyes, hoping that Blair isn't about to have a meltdown. A few more seconds pass, then she hears Blair clearing her throat. "Um… he didn't… hurt her, did he?"

Téa glances up at the ceiling, feeling her eyes tearing up again. "No, I mean, he picked her up… and shook her. A little. He picked her up by her arms, but she's not bruised or anything … but he really scared her, y'know?" She pauses then confesses, "His reaction surprised me, too." Her voice wavers as the tears run down her face.

Another silence...then an unusually cool Blair finally asks, "Is he still there?"

"No...he left," Téa replies, trying to wipe her face on her shoulder. "...but she's...she's still pretty upset. I mean, she's better than she was, but… I just… I think you should come get her."

"Yes," she says, her voice clipped. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Téa hugs Evan to her. "Thanks, Blair...I'm really sorry about this."

She hears Blair sigh, serious anger there. Sharply, she then says, "This isn't on you, Téa. That _bastard_ just… I was always scared that one day he was gonna turn on his baby girl." She then says, "...but...listen… are YOU okay? I mean… you wanna come here for a while?"

Téa smiles, sadly, at Blair's genuine concern. "Oh, that's...uh...that's really nice of you to offer, but...um..."

"It's okay, really...I can bring y'all back here, since I'm coming there anyway."

There's a silence as Téa thinks it over, wondering if it might be a better idea than what she has planned. She looks down at Evan, resting against her belly comfortably...so content...so safe... ...for now.

"No," Téa says, "no, that's okay. I appreciate it, but...I should stay here."

"Are you sure?"

 _God...no...no, I'm not sure of anything._

"Mmmm-hmm," she says instead.

"Well...alright. I'll be there as fast as I can."

"Thanks," Téa whispers, not even capable of a voice in the moment, then hangs up. She picks up Evan, lifting him and holding him in front of her. He looks at her, recognizing her… but of course blissfully clueless as to what she's feeling. She kisses him, then puts him on her shoulder as she gets up. She walks out and back down the stairs, putting him in the swing next to his sleeping brother. She winds the swing and lets it go, and Evan kicks happily as he swings back and forth to the tinny music. Téa steps back, and somehow ends up sitting on the floor in front of them...not by falling down or losing her balance...but not by a conscious decision, either. She stares up at her sleeping children, suddenly imagining herself running down an endless, abandoned road… running, with the twins strapped to her body… looking behind her… constantly looking over her shoulder…

...for the long, dark demon in the black coat, the flaps flying back in the wind as he stalk towards her … the one who wants her babies… the one who wants to kill them… the one who is never more than a few steps behind her… the one that would always be there.

 _Always._

Téa's whole body seems to deflate as she buries her face in her hands… exhausted ... confused… so confused by it all. When she saw Todd holding Starr like a rag doll, screaming at her, shaking her… shaking her like she was nothing… the answer seemed all too clear. But her head is hazy now, filled with thoughts going in a million different directions, down a million different roads, but somehow they all end up at the same, central idea: the right thing to do.

 _The right thing to do…_

All at once, she remembers being in this very same quandary, so many times before, and it was always with Todd. Every step she has taken with him has put her in this same situation. And almost every time she made a decision, it seemed to be the wrong one… and she would be punished somehow. She would come away with a scar, be it mental, emotional or physical. It made her question herself in a way she never had before… her instincts, her objectivity… her ability to make a simple judgment call.

Sitting there in a heap on the floor, she feels like she's suddenly come to the edge of a cliff, with Evan and Brendan clinging to her… and now she must make another decision, probably the most important one she's ever made: turn back, and face the demon… and possibly come away with another scar, or even worse, give him the chance to harm the children...or…

...jump…

… hurl herself and their children into the depths of the unknown, cutting herself off from the only person she has ever loved, would ever love, and depriving her children of their father and his great capacity to love…

… in order to protect them from all the darkness, all the anger, and all the pain that surrounds him and makes itself a part of him, makes him into the demon.

 _The right thing to do…_

She thinks it, over and over, not having any idea what that is anymore. All she knows is that she's confused, and she's scared… but not for herself. She's scared for Todd, scared for the boys. Dropping her hands away from her face, she looks up at them, sleeping...peaceful...oblivious to what is happening around them...and unable to know what is the right thing.

Then she sees Todd, again, holding his daughter up off the ground, shaking her little body like she had no bones at all. He hadn't hurt her, not really. She is young, and loves him so much that she will forgive him even though she doesn't know she'll be doing it. And Todd...he was instantly sorry. It is true. Obviously.

But he crossed the line… he lost control… that all-important power that held everything in check. And losing control, for just that one moment, that one second...made him lose sight of all that was important in his life. He fears, the sight of his daughter potentially learning the truth about him, which would lead to her not loving him anymore, blinded him, allowing the demon to take over, and go after whatever… or _whoever_ … was in striking distance, with unbelievable speed and strength.

A demon.

Téa shuts her eyes, remembering just how powerful he could be, how cruel, remembering his closed fist making contact with her face.

And now he'd lost it with Starr, a kid who didn't know any better, and meant no harm. If he could lose it with her, if he could lose sight of her, his little girl, his treasure… then… how long before the same thing would happen with one, or both of the boys? Maybe never, maybe this incident with Starr had undoubtedly scared the hell out of Todd… maybe it would serve as a harsh reminder of what he was capable of. And it was certainly possible that he would learn from it, and never, ever lay an angry hand on any of his children again. It was possible…

… but was it _likely?_

Téa rubs her face, roughly, then pulls herself up onto the couch, instinctively grabbing her cell phone. She stares at it, just like she was staring that cold fact in the face… the fact that she no longer trusts Todd with the children. At the moment, he's too unstable, too volatile to be around them.

 _What a mess...what a horrible, ugly mess,_ she thinks, with a heavy sigh. Their lives are a mess...and her head is a mess...one that she needs time to sort through.

* * *

Todd finds himself curled on his side against the cold marble wall, sweating and breathing hard as if he'd just awoken from a brutalizing nightmare. The alcohol daze had faded, the faceless woman had vanished, and he isn't sure how long he'd been sleeping. What had been an early afternoon sun has turned to night. He pulls himself to his feet and stares all around the crypt, studies the slats in the ceiling and the plainness. Nothing but stone, housing the remains of a man long gone ... no ghosts, no spirits, no mystical scents.

"Just me," he said. "Just a bastard ... just a fucked up bastard."

Rubbing his hands through his hair, he inhales the thick air, remembering the dream and how good parts of it felt, how typical the rest was: he is forever engaged in some kind of battle with something.

"God fucking damnit... can't even have a good wet dream." He massages his cock over his jeans, knowing he ejaculated, remembering the intense orgasm, but he's dry. Like he'd finished inside the phantom.

 _Fucking crazy._

Running his hand along the cool wall, he walks the perimeter of the crypt. Trying to figure out what was going on. He'd screwed up with Starr ... that was for fucking sure. Nothing he could do about it other than talk to her, try to assure her it wouldn't happen again. Maybe ... he'd have to explain something about rape ... maybe ... Téa did already?

Which brought him back to Téa ... something was going on with her, something ... something terribly wrong. Balling his hand into a fist, he groans with frustration and bumps his head against the wall repeatedly.

 _What ... what's going on?_

 _She betrays you._

He hears those words about betrayal and he doesn't understand where it's coming from, what it means, if anything other than his massive paranoia. She did keep denying shit, swearing it was just post-baby stuff ... but he's really not sure.

 _She betrays you._

He puts his hands to his ears and screams at the top of his lungs. Screams until he has nothing left inside of him. He HAS to talk to someone. He needs to talk to someone. But who? Who would know her secrets? Rachel? _Nah ..._ Carlotta? _No ..._ then he thinks he has an idea. Someone in her life who is strong and stable … someone who could handle anything ... the only person who has been a steady confidante to Téa, one person who seems to know more than he was letting on….

 _RJ fuckin' Gannon._

Todd rubs his nose with acute distaste, pulls his hair back again. _Yeah ..._ feels the deadened pain give way to a surge of comfortable indignation. _She betrays you._ RJ knows something. Has to. At that, Todd sweeps out of the mausoleum ready to do more battle.

 _Yeah._

* * *

Breathless, Roseanne shoots open her eyes to the clanging of a guard's nightstick against her cell door. "Dinner's on ... get up," the female officer spits. Sitting on the edge of her cot now, she glances nervously across the aisle at Oba who's stretching her arms and back as she readies herself to stand, she also sitting on her bed.

"What happened?" Roseanne asks.

"You tell me," the ebony woman answers. "All I saw was peace ... all I heard was quiet."

"It was so real ... so vivid. I was with him and he wanted me ... and ... we..." She bites her lip, looking at her hands. Shudders with persistent memory and rubs the muscles in her arms. She realized she is sore all over, crisply, painfully… sore. Jesus, he'd rolled her but good. Brutal, even. In the dream.

"I think he was quite taken by my... encouragement."

"Are you not confident?"

"I'm just ... uh ... it was so real. He was ... so ... real."

"Well then your energy, I am sure, disrupted his reality. Perhaps his devotion might not be so strong now, since he has seen you, has felt another woman's passion." Oba's face however, darkens with devil's advocacy. "Did he play with you?"

"Play?"

"Yes ... did he see YOUR weaknesses? I sense he's a powerful spirit."

Roseanne thinks back, swallowing hard, becoming less sure of herself, of her power. Her teacher looks at her with one eyebrow lifted, questioning her from across the way, making Roseanne feel ... less significant, less ... in control. Todd's words echo within, triggering her own deep fears ...

 _You're a pathetic bitch who thinks she can overpower me, who thinks she can become stronger if she tames the beast._

Roseanne worries ... and then lies. Sits up with mock confidence.

 _Think it and it will be real._

"I'm sure he didn't," she says. "... I think I'm pretty good at this thanks to what you've taught me. I think it might have worked, I think ... my enemy is going to finally succumb to the curse, completely." She raises her own eyebrows and turns away for an instant. Touching her fingers to her lips, then sniffing at her arms, at her skin and hair, she noticed the undeniable smell of alcohol-tinged sweat with a hint of a man's cologne. It isn't possible, though, couldn't be. She hides how much her body hurts. She resists massaging the insides of her thighs, soothing her pubic bone where he'd been pressing. She hears a low bit of laughter from across the way.

"Oba ... was I really there?"

"Reality, student, is in our minds. It is what we make it. If we want it to be real, it is. If we want it to be a dream, it is."

"But I can smell him ... all over me. Why?" She's afraid again because now she wonders who controlled whom. Who intruded on whose existence?

"Patience, Roseanne, patience. Don't be afraid of the dark art. That will weaken you."

The guard shuffles back and growls at the women to get a move-on who quickly exit their cells, hurrying to the dining room. As they walk, Roseanne's nervousness lessens as she reviews over and over what had happened. At the end, it was _Todd_ who was begging for love, admitting his own pathetic state of being. _Sure._ By the time she and Oba reach their assigned destination, she's certain that it had been _she_ who'd won the struggle with Todd ...

...right?

 _You still afraid? Don't be ... it'll be easy to love me, to be mine. Come on ... love me._

* * *

Starr comes down the stairs, just as Blair knocks on the door. Téa makes a lame attempt at straightening her clothes and hair as she opens the door. The women exchange awkward smiles, as usual...then Blair walks in… immediately opening her arms for Starr, who runs into them.

"Mommy!" Starr says, practically bowling her over. Blair rubs her daughter's back, kissing her cheek. "Ohhhh...my beautiful girl...y'alright?"

Téa watches, as Starr pulls away, nodding… then looks up at her. "Are you comin' with us?"

Blair turns her head at that, looking up at Téa as well, so Téa smiles, "No, I'm gonna stay here."

Starr wrinkles her eyebrows, looking worried. Téa sighs, realizing Starr is really afraid of Todd and that if he knew that… Jesus. She covers though and smiles, "I'll be fine, _Estrellita_ … we'll be fine. But, um...I do want you to do me a favor though, okay? Make me a promise?"

Starr just waits, blinking at her. Téa glances at Blair for a second who wears a surprising look of genuine concern on her face. "Try not to stay mad at your father for too long."

"I'm not mad," she says, but her eyes glistened with hurt.

"Well, that's good... 'cause he loves you. And...I know that he'll be wanting to say he's sorry, and I know he'll explain why that happened… and he will make sure that will never happen again."

"Yeah...I know, but…" And now tears rolled down her face and Blair looked fit to kill but kept her cool. "Daddy yelled so loud… "

"I know."

"I don't wanna be around him until he's done being mad," Starr says, quietly, with just a little of her own anger peeking through.

"And you don't have to be. Your mom will make sure you don't see him until he's done with his mad. Just… try not to be mad forever."

Slowly, she nods, but with a concerned face.

Téa smiles, says, "Thank you, Starr." She then pulls her into a tight hug, turning to kiss her on the cheek. Then Téa holds her away, with another sad smile...and notices Starr's eyes...looking into her deeply, and in some small way, as if she knows what's going on. Starr opens her mouth to say something, but Blair interrupts her train of thought, as she moves towards the door.

"Did you say goodbye to your brothers?"

Starr blinks at that, looking over at her baby brothers in their swings. Then she suddenly looks back at Téa, her concerned face becoming more anxious. Téa bites her tongue, realizing that she really does know now.

"Starr? What's the matter?" Blair asks. Starr looks into Téa for another moment then looks up at her mom.

"Nothing," she says, walking back into the living room.

Téa sighs heavily and Blair gives her a questioning look. "What was that all about?"

Téa shrugs. "I guess she's still a little weirded out." Blair nods, watching as her daughter kisses both of the babies, making funny noises at them.

When Starr seems to be done, Blair pulls her keys out of her pocket and Starr pulls away from the swings, waving to the babies as she backs up...then she grabs her bag, dragging it into the foyer.

Blair smoothes her hair, smiling at her. "Say goodbye to Téa."

Téa hugs her again. Starr gives her a kiss on the cheek, and puts her lips to her ear.

"Don't be gone too long, okay?"

Tea's eyes widen at that and she pulls back. Starr gives her a little smile then she grabs Blair's hand, letting her mom lead her out.

"You just call if you change your mind," Blair says, and Téa agrees, watching as they step over to the elevator. She keeps her eyes locked with Starr's as they step in...then Starr waves with that look of reluctant understanding as the doors close.

Téa shuts the door, leaning up against it for a moment, covering her mouth as she cries a little, feeling incredibly guilty now, and again, questioning herself.

 _...what are you doing...?_

But then Starr's voice pops into her mind, suddenly...

 _"I don't wanna be around him until he's done being mad..."_

 _Yes, that's it, isn't it...that's exactly it._

She walks into the living room, and looks down at the boys, both awake now, and staring back at her…

 _*I* don't wanna be around him 'til he's done being mad, either but how long is THAT gonna take?_

Téa looks at Brendan, only the oldest by one minute but still, the oldest newborn she's ever seen. His quiet way implies experience and wisdom and when she looks into his eyes, she sees...Todd.

"Wish you could talk," she whispers. "I wish you could tell me if I'm doing the right thing."

Brendan blinks at her, quiet and calm. Téa sniffs, lifting him out of the swing then she bends slightly, to wrap an arm around Evan and pick him up, too. She shifts them around to get a better hold on them, then looks at them both suddenly full of such love, a wonderful warmth...

...but it's quickly ruined by confusion, fear, the dark cloud that seems to hang over her all the time now, the constant threat. She takes a deep, slow breath, heavy with the burden of what she's about to do.

She takes the twins upstairs, to get them ready…

...ready to run.

 **To be continued...**


	9. Chapter 9

**ART** **OF THE DARK - PART 9**

Téa wasn't used to seeing her babies so...fully dressed. In all the time they'd been home, the most they ever had on in the way of clothes were their pajamas. Most of the time, though, the boys were content to lie around in diapers and little shirts. No pants, no shoes… and certainly no outerwear. She sighs as she looks through all the gifts they'd received, looking for anything resembling a jacket. But she can't find any. The closest thing she'd gotten to a jacket were two little gray sweatshirts Sam had bought for them. Sighing again, she takes them out of the box and rips the tags off. Walks back over to the bed.

Suddenly, and for no particular reason, she looks out the window. The sky has darkened, the city lights bright now, and traffic grinds with homebound anxiousness. She looks at the clock on the table and realizes she has to get moving. She sits on the bed, picking up the boys one at a time, and putting a sweatshirt on each of them. Not as warm as a coat, but it would have to do. She zips up the only bag she's packed and drags it down the stairs, leaving it by the door. So lonely it looks there, unpaired. Then she runs back upstairs, scooping the boys up into her arms. They lay lazily on her shoulders as she carries them down into the living room. She eases them down into their respective seats, and starts buckling them in. Evan grabs at the hair that's fallen down in her face, tugging on it.

"Ow! Hey," she says, pulling her hair out of his little fist, and pushing it behind her ear. She kisses his hand, skin soft as cream, then she moves over to Brendan, and straps him in. She glances at him quickly; but then has to look back, drawn to his eyes, little versions of Todd's eyes...which seem to be looking right into her. She stops for a second, shutting her eyes...asking herself, again…

 _...what am I doing?_

When she opens her eyes again, they're wet with tears. She sniffs, trying to shake it off. Then she looks back at her oldest boy, leaning in to kiss his forehead. He feels warm and for a moment, she considers whether he has fever or not, but then rejects the possibility. He's always warm, she reminds herself. Just like Todd with blood running fast and hot, a trait of a creature who's always on the alert, about to pounce. She focuses again, finishes buckling him in, and picks them both up, carrying them into the foyer and setting them down again. She goes back and empties her purse, taking only what she absolutely needs: keys, wallet, and her passport that surfaced after years in the bottom of a drawer.

The boys are so quiet, as if they know they have to be.

 _No tears now, no cold feet now...gotta move away from the devil before he catches on - 'cause if he catches you, there'll be hell to pay, pure HELL._

She stuffs her things in a pocket of her jacket as she puts it on, then walks into the foyer, and picks up the bag, swinging it over her shoulder. It weighs heavily on her, as she opens the door, and walks out to call the elevator. She picks up the boys' seats, bringing them out into the hallway. They're heavy, and the bag feels like it's going to slip off her shoulder any second. Grunting softly, she puts the boys down again, adjusts the strap...and turns back.

With one hand on the knob, she leans against the door for a moment...taking in the empty living room. She hesitates again, thinking about the effect her leaving will have on Todd...something she hadn't allowed herself to do for the last hour.

 _I don't know...I don't know..._

And suddenly, all she can think of is how much she loves the person she's about to leave. Her chest tightens up, remembering him kissing her up in the bedroom while Carlotta was there. She thinks of his lips on hers, the way he tastes, the way he presses on her. My god, how she lived for that barely-able-to-breathe feeling that only he gives her. And for a moment, her need to be with Todd overrides all her other emotions …

 _Go back ... it'll be okay...go back inside ..._

Then the elevator announces its arrival with a chime, opening its doors for her, offering her the alternative. She turns and looks at it… then back at the Penthouse… then back at the elevator.

* * *

RJ Gannon yanks open the door of his apartment, about to head over to the club. But he stops short, grabbing the door frame as he nearly trips over Todd, who's sitting dead-center on the floor in a big, messy heap.

"Whoa ... the hell happened to you?!"

Todd looks up at him through fuzzy eyes, squinting at what he _thinks_ is a really bright light in the hallway. He gestures broadly, in the general direction of his door. "I was...tryin' to…," he starts, blinking, trying to shake himself into a coherent state. "...knock...but I...ended up down here...somehow..."

RJ cocks an eyebrow, then leans in, sniffing the air. He immediately makes a disgusted face. "Oh...god...you smell like...like…," he says, then makes a 'screw it' gesture, as he bends down to help him up. Todd grabs onto him, basically letting RJ help him to his feet and drag him inside. RJ pushes Todd in the direction of the couch, then closes the door. He watches as Todd collapses onto it, sprawling out, and covering his face with his hands. RJ shakes his head at him, as he walks into the kitchen.

"What you been doin'?" he yells, from the kitchen. Todd just lies there, face covered, not answering, because he knows there's a reason he's here. But it's currently playing hide-and-seek with him. RJ comes back out with a wet towel and a glass of water, and sits down on the coffee table.

"Here," he says, tapping him with the glass.

Todd pulls himself up into a sitting position, and reaches for the glass, guzzling the water. He knows he threw up somewhere, and that must be part of the perfume he's sharing with RJ.

"Hold up," RJ says, handing him some aspirin. Todd gives him a look, taking the pills and knocking them back in his throat. He finishes the water, and RJ throws the towel at him. "Wipe that ugly face...shit. Shouldn't even let you sit my damned couch."

Todd covers his face with the towel. "I'll...buy y'another one," he says, muffled. Then he leans back, closing his eyes, letting the wet coolness wake him up. RJ tosses his long braids back, leaning forward on his knees.

"So?"

"Hmm?"

"The hell you come HERE for, man? You got a WIFE to clean you up." Todd opens his eyes at that, rubbing his neck with the towel as he leans forward again.

"Yeah, well...maybe not for long."

RJ makes a face. "What you talkin' about, Willis?"

Todd sighs, his head pounding, hoping the aspirin would hurry up and get up to his temples. Hoping the whole day would disappear, that the truth would fizzle into an un-truth. _No such luck,_ he thinks, as an image of fear-stricken eyes shifts in the dark recesses of his mind. "I did something...really stupid," he mutters.

"Mmm...I'd say goin' out and gettin' yourself pickled like this is pretty stupid, yeah."

Todd rolls his eyes at that. "Not THAT...well...that's not what I meant."

RJ waits, noticing the look in his eyes as he rubs his forehead. It's a look he hasn't seen in a while on Manning and it isn't a good one.

"I...uh… I scared my kid, Starr...got angry at her, and...ohhhh..." he trails off, covering his face again, groaning from behind his hands. He can see Starr vividly, can see her shock, can hear her voice asking about rape ever-so-innocently. The word, _rape,_ blowing out of her mouth and popping pink all over her face, sticking to her, and now that sticky pink gum is all over her soft skin.

RJ puts a hand to his lips, chewing on his thumb a little. "So...what, you yelled at her?"

"My things...she's gotta stay outta my things..."

 _Permanent pink,_ _on those lips, cheeks... just rub it off, roll it off ... god, it's on my hands, on my clothes, my hair._

"Huh?"

"She said it..."

"Said WHAT? Talk, man!"

Todd drops his hands away from his face, crazy eyes on RJ. "Starr found these old newspapers with MY picture on them, nice, BIG headlines that said DADDY was on trial for _rape_. You get the picture NOW?" His jaw tightens and he grinds his teeth, looking at RJ intensely.

RJ sits back a little. "Oh."

"Yeah...my little girl...my beautiful, beautiful girl. Know what she said to me? She goes...'Daddy, what's RAPED?' And I just...I totally lost it… scared the shit out of her… and ... and Téa." For a moment, Todd remembers being in the mausoleum with the gorgeous, faceless woman that somehow reminded him of her...sort of...but not really. Remembers how good and real it was, how accepting the vision had been of all his ... _angry…_ energy. _Is that what you call it? Angry?_ He shudders because what he did to that shadow… was a lot of really old shit. He… did not… hold back. In any goddamn way.

He sighs again, as does RJ.

"You hurt Starr?"

It was a horrible question and Todd wanted to punch him in the face just for asking that shit, but he did, didn't he? Hurt her. He closed his eyes a moment, shrugged.

"How bad, asshole?"

"Not like hitting her! Who do you think I am?!"

"I'm getting a whole new idea now."

"I...I shook her. Picked her up to get her away from the papers. A little yelling. Maybe a lot of yelling. I fuckin' lost it, I told you!"

"Wow. That's, uh...hmm. I don't even know what to say about that."

"I don't expect you to say anything. It's my problem. It's my fault." Todd slumps back, keeping a watch on RJ, on the memories pecking at him.

"Well...no offense, but...what are you doin' HERE? You should be at home. You should be getting a goddamn doctor to check your HEAD."

"She told me to leave," Todd replies, quietly. RJ wags his eyebrows at that.

"Oh...well...how long ago was THAT?"

Todd stares off at some miscellaneous point in the air, thinking of Téa ... of her horrified face.

"I've been out all day."

RJ tips his head to the side, getting in Todd's way, making him look up.

"Well, like I said, you ain't doin' anybody any good sitting here. What you gotta do is sober your ass up, and go home. Go home and talk it out with your girl, and talk it out with Téa."

Todd stares at him, his eyes remarkably steady, considering how drunk he is. RJ does a slight take, at his piercing stare and it feels like a concentrated beam, a searchlight, looking for something. So RJ makes a questioning face right back.

"What...you expecting me to get pissed at you or something? Punch you out?"

Todd blinks at that, his glare softening a bit, taken off-guard. He sniffs, considering his next move, but it's all pointless because he sure as hell isn't ready to start interrogating RJ just yet ...

 _Oh yeah, that's right, that's why I'm here._

He remembers that he's here to poke around RJ's do-main, see what's up because Téa .. _Téa ..._ has been here and RJ knows what's up with her. Even though she doesn't talk about it, RJ IS the one she turns to, relies on, isn't ever afraid of. He knows, he knows it all ... but ... nope, Todd's too damned sick at the moment to start in, too ... damn ... sick.

RJ stands up, stretching his neck as he shuffles around the room. "Look, man...Téa and I, we been friends a long time. I know better than to get involved in what goes down between you two, so… if you're waiting for me to jump down your throat, it's not gonna happen. At least...not THIS time. And truth is, if my little girls found some ugly newspaper article like that, I'd be pretty messed about it too."

Now it's Todd's turn to raise an eyebrow, because even though he called the closeness of Téa and RJ right, he's kinda pissed again. Swallowing to calm his churning stomach, he grumbles, "Not THIS time? What, so...it's okay for me to beat on my own kid, long as I don't beat on Delgado, is that what you're sayin'?"

RJ does another take, this time at the accusatory tone in his voice. "Did I SAY that?" he replies, and Todd just glances away, grimacing at the nausea starting to hit him hard again.

Studying him, RJ half-laughs, folding his arms.

"Y'know, Manning, I'm getting SERIOUS vibes off you ...SERIOUS fuckin' VIBES. So why don't you just cut the shit already, and say whatever you gotta say."

Todd's glare returns, and he shoots it back to RJ, standing up quick. _Say what you gotta say, brother, say it loud._ _Yeah._ His sour stomach seems to be churning up some leftover rage as well. He feels it mixing in, and starting to go to his head, as he takes a step toward RJ.

"'Not THIS time,'" he mimics. "Gonna kick Todd's ass NEXT time, though. Isn't that right?"

That fury, it is so close to him, so near and dear. It gurgles beneath his skin, zips about, popping ... deep red. He shakes his head like a bull and sees RJ's defenses go up in the way the man stays silent, in the cool grin beginning to break out across hard features. Mildly tasteful rage rushes to his head and clears it, somewhat. _Now..._ he feels ready for the interrogation.

"Go on, asshole," RJ says. "Jus' say what you wanna say."

"You're the great protector, aren't you? Téa's protector?"

RJ just stares back at him, a little confused but not intimidated. He tips his head slightly ... knowingly. Says, "Damn straight."

His matter-of-fact tone only serves to make Todd angrier, as he approaches. "Protector ... friend ... keeper of ... her secrets," he says, low and cold. RJ runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek at that, half-laughing again, as Todd gets right up to him. "Y'know, I thought we had an understanding about all this."

"You accusing me of something? What?" RJ replies, bluffing ... living up to his promise to indeed keep Téa's secrets.

"Aww don't be that way, Gannon. You know EXACTLY what I'm talking about."

RJ just shakes his head, keeping his eyes steady, trying to make Todd second-guess himself and back down; and although Todd grits his teeth, showing bulldog determination, RJ's cool has obviously rattled Todd's delicate state of being, his hands tightening into fists and his voice straining with impatience.

"Look," Todd finally grouses, "I've had a really, REALLY shitty day so far and I'm in no mood to fuck around with you, so you better start talking… like RIGHT NOW! There's something you're not telling me, and I wanna know what it is!"

RJ tips his head back a little, studying him. Taking his sweet time. "What do you want me to say? What, that Téa confides in me about what a lousy father you are? What a lousy HUSBAND you are? What?"

"FUCK YOU, RJ! I'm not gonna lose Téa again because of YOU!" he yells, right in his face. RJ backs up a step, not out of fear but to get a better look at Todd. Something's definitely up ... and it's not just that the guy's drunk off his ass, or upset that he lost his temper with his kid. He's really freaked out ... about _TÉA,_ not Starr ... and not just because of what had happened. He's really ... _paranoid_. RJ makes another face, suspicious now, trying to put it all together in his head.

"Why would you lose Téa?"

Todd throws his hands up, all control over the situation shot to hell. "Shit! He-LO! HI! Have you been listening to me AT ALL?"

"Yeah, I have. I been hearin' every word outta that smelly mouth of yours. But you haven't answered my question. Why would you lose Téa?"

Todd just looks back at him, confused and pissed, mumbling something in aggravation. RJ's eyes look him over carefully, from top to bottom, and back to top, finally spotting something. He stares at it ... then looks back up at his face, even more suspicious.

"Are you so goddamned drunk that you don't remember whatever it was you two were doing last night? Things can't be all THAT bad."

Todd's mouth falls open at that. "What did you say?"

RJ shakes his head at him ... then lifts a finger to his own neck ... and taps it. Todd looks back at him, totally confused for a moment ... then slowly ... ever so slowly ... RJ watches him carefully, as Todd runs hesitant fingers over a deep red mark on his neck. Todd glances at him in passing, as he looks around wildly for a mirror. He spots one over by the front door and runs over to it.

RJ strolls up behind him, watching him examine the hickey he obviously didn't know was there.

"The hell...?" Todd mutters, eyes wide...as he keeps touching the spot, like it would rub off somehow. "Ohhhh, no… can't be… oh, fuck."

"You cheating on her?" RJ asks, flat out… and in the mirror, Todd glares at him; but he just shoots it right back. "Don't gimme that look. YOU'RE the one sportin' the new hickey ... the one that Téa obviously DIDN'T give you."

Todd looks back at the spot ... and remembers his ... dream? Yes ... it had to be. That woman ... that ... ghostly woman couldn't have actually _been_ there, couldn't have appeared out of thin air, and disappeared back into it the way she seemed to, unless it was a dream. Things just didn't work that way in the real world, only in fucking fantasies did it happen like that ... but ... nevertheless, here he is, with a mark, a _real_ mark on his skin.

He remembers the feel of her mouth on his neck, sucking on that spot ... it felt so real ... it had weakened him and pushed him beyond his limits of control. He remembers it ... all of it. _Jesus ... what the fuck was that?_

RJ starts pacing around behind him. "I can't believe you, man. And just when I thought I might be starting to like you, too… you go and pull this shit. The fuck is wrong with you?"

Todd turns to face him, shaking his head. "I'm not...this isn't-"

RJ whirls around, pointing. "Don't even start with the 'this isn't what it looks like' crap. You're screwing around on her, aren't you? That's why you're so scared that she's gonna leave your ass. And may I say, she got every right. EVERY goddamn right."

"No...no...no, I'm not cheating on her." Todd replies, his breathing becoming harsh, and irregular. It was a dream ... _just a dream ..._ it didn't really happen ... he'd never do that _... what the fuck WAS THAT?!_ Seized by a sudden, panicky feeling that replaces the rage that was starting to mix with his sour stomach, he sinks down to the floor, grasping the leg of the table in front of the mirror, sweating. Something is wrong, really wrong with this picture and he feels like when he was a kid and his dad was on the verge of killing him, fist raised and mouth twisted and there wasn't a goddamned thing he could do about it other than wait for the blow to come ... just close your eyes and wait for the mind- blowing hit. Somebody ... is kicking his ass and it isn't RJ _... something, something ..._

RJ opens his mouth again, ready to rip him a new one ... but he has to stop when he sees him all folded up on the floor, holding on to the table leg for dear life. It wasn't the kind of reaction he expected ... it certainly wasn't normal ... and it suddenly makes him think twice about the conclusion he's jumping to. He watches him for another moment ... then squats down to be at eye-level with him.

"What the hell's goin' on with you, man?"

Todd shuts his eyes, his cheek pressed against the table leg, still hugging it. "Falling apart ... it's all falling apart ..."

"What ... what is?"

Todd swallows again and again, trying to calm his stomach, and concentrates on slowing his breathing down. After a few seconds, the panic seems to pass, leaving him a bit more clear- headed. Slowly, he lets go of the table, and looks up at RJ. "Something ... is happening, RJ. I don't know what it is ... but I can feel it. It's got something to do with Téa ... and YOU know exactly what I'm talking about," he says, still somewhat breathless.

RJ sits back a little, fairly sure now that he's wrong. Todd isn't cheating on her. He doesn't know how he knows that, but it's clear to him. He studies him for another moment, looking at that red spot on his neck that's turning the beginnings of a bluish bruise. He tries to tune in to him, in a way, trying to guess what the hell's happening ... but still says nothing.

Todd moves closer to him, grabbing RJ by the collar of his jacket. "Tell me what you know. Please ... "

RJ makes a face, not knowing what to think. He promised ... promised not to say anything ... but there is something so desperate, and scary, about Manning's tone, his eyes, his look, his ...everything. It's really throwing him off and he sits back, forcing Todd's hands off him, reluctant to speak at all.

Todd's shoulders sink, and he has to put both hands on the floor to steady himself. He feels so sick ... so tired ... and suddenly, now ... so very afraid; but of whom, or what, or why ... he doesn't know. But one thing for sure, whatever this was, it had gotten to him, had gotten to his insides, had gotten into his mind and drawn out the most perverse, the weakest part of him and above all, it had laughed at him. Marked him and set him loose.

"I don't know how to explain it...I just know something's wrong… VERY wrong. I just...I feel it coming...something bad..."

RJ sighs, sitting all the way down on the floor. He looks at Todd for another moment, then shakes his head. "This bad thing, you think it could hurt Téa?"

"Yeah, I do." A second or two passes.

"Alright...alright," RJ says, quietly. Todd looks up at him through his matted, messy hair, as RJ sighs again. "But I'm only gonna tell you this if you promise me ... that you're not gonna take it out on her."

Todd makes a face at that, glancing away for a moment because he knows what he's capable of, knows it lurks inside of him. But he takes a leap of faith. "I would...never hurt her, RJ ... you know that," he whispers.

RJ nods. "I think I know that, but seeing you now… not so sure. Promise me."

"I PROMISE!"

"Ok, you REMEMBER that after I say what I'm gonna say, that's all."

Todd just shrugs, weakly. "Say it."

So RJ takes a deep breath. "Alright...uh..." he starts, trying to ease into it; but he finds that he can't think of a way to do it. So finally, he tips his head, at a loss. "Shelton's been calling the penthouse."

The only way he knows that Todd even heard him is his blinking.

RJ sighs again, gesturing with his hand a little. "Uh...Téa, y'know, she's… she's puttin' up a good front. She's real short with him, keeps telling him not to call, but ... that doesn't seem to be stopping him," he says, watching as Todd closes his eyes, dropping his head.

"Look, the problem is that...the calls are too short, and he's gotta be using a special hook up. A cell that's bouncing the signal, or something like that ... 'cause I can't get a lock on him. Every time I try, it tells me the call's coming from a dozen different places. He could be anywhere."

Todd feels his arms tiring, from holding his body up. He's shaking slightly, his mind filling with images of himself and Téa on the floor of the penthouse that awful night, their closeness, their intimacy ruined, corrupted by Téa's memories of what had happened to her, corrupted by _him._ And now it seemed the trauma she suffered wasn't good enough anymore ... now Shelton felt he had to keep himself in her world, in _their_ world. Then he hears a voice in his head, that of the ghostly woman who left her mark on him. He makes a face remembering their encounter ... how beautiful she was, how good she smelled ... and how ready he was to give himself to her … how he TOOK her.

 _You're nothing but a boy...a hurt, ruined, cursed boy...your woman sees it… and she runs. She wants protection ... but you can't give it to her. She wants to be free of her pain, but you can't release her because you are too broken. So she looks elsewhere for that protection now and in doing so she betrays you..."_

RJ notices Todd's face. Eyes closed, concentrating hard, like he's trying to remember something.

And in his head, Todd hears the words repeating...showing him what he'd missed.

 _Your woman sees it..._

"...and she runs..." he whispers, barely audible.

RJ makes a confused face. "What? You say something?"

 _...she wants protection..._

"...but I can't give it to her..." Todd says, a little louder.

RJ's face gets more confused as Todd opens his eyes and stares with a spaced, entranced look.

"She wants to be free of her pain...but I...I can't release her because I'm too...broken. So she looks elsewhere for that protection now..."

RJ raises an eyebrow. "Todd...hello...yo, Todd...wake up, man!"

Todd blinks, suddenly looking at him with wide eyes, breathing hard and fast again.

 _She betrays you._

RJ tips his head, concerned. "Man, what the HELL are you babbling about?"

"Oh no...this is not happening..." Todd mutters, covering his face.

RJ throws his hands up. "Oh, for chrissake..."

"Elsewhere...she looks ELSEWHERE now...oh my god...why didn't I think of this before."

"Look, if you don't get a hold of yourself, I'm gonna have to start slapping you. SPEAK ENGLISH! What the FUCK are you TALKING ABOUT?"

"Shelton," he says, dropping his hands. RJ waits for more, then shrugs. "Yeah...what about him?"

"Téa … she's gonna leave me...for him...she's going to HIM."

RJ does a take at that. "Wh-what? Are you NUTS?"

"That's it...that's it, RJ...she's gonna leave me," he says again, starting to pull himself up. RJ stands up with him, and follows him to the door. When he sees that Todd's about to leave, RJ blocks his way. "Get outta my way, RJ, I gotta get home!"

RJ shakes his head. "No...you're gonna calm the hell down, that's what you're gonna do. I mean, listen to yourself! 'She's gonna leave me for him'...are you outta your mind? She would NEVER do that!"

"Yes, she would ... THINK, RJ! You haven't been listening to her! NOBODY'S been listening to her! Especially ME!" he insists, and RJ's shoulders sink.

"Nah...I can't believe she ..."

"She thinks I can't protect her, or the boys. She's scared of me, she saw what I did to Starr, and now she thinks ... I'll do the same thing or worse ... to the boys ... or to her. But… this fear… it started a while ago. I can't explain it. But now… I think it's been the thing that's been all over her. JESUS."

There's a silence in the room. Heavy and dire. RJ finds he can't think of anything to say because he realizes maybe he's been missing the signs too, not been firm enough, not been protective enough.

Todd steps toward the door, and after a second, RJ moves aside, with a sigh. Says, "Look, I'll...I'll get over to the club and start making calls… see if we can get a line on Shelton, just in case you're right."

Todd opens the door and starts out; then he stops, and RJ notices his eyes… beaten down now, and full of exhaustion. "God, I hope I'm not too late," he whispers, then he walks out, down the hall. RJ watches him for a moment, then makes a face, grabbing his keys and running out after him.

* * *

"Five minutes, ladies," the harsh female voice says, announcing to all the inmates that TV hour was just about over. Sitting at one of the tables in the recreation room, Oba looks across from her to Roseanne, watching her. She'd been watching her very carefully since her little "trip" to the outside world. It had clearly affected her. She'd hardly said a word since. And Oba grins to herself, knowing how it scared her, even though she kept denying it. Roseanne was learning, and learning very quickly. She had a real connection with the dark forces, Oba could see...and if fostered properly, Roseanne's abilities could become some of the most powerful that ever existed…

 _...and what an advantage that would be._ Oba sniffs, taking a last drag off of her cigarette, seeing Roseanne's efforts to keep her thoughts down, away from where she might see it. She grins again, shaking her head a little, as she crushes the cigarette out.

Roseanne sighs as she hugs herself, absent-mindedly, staring at the television but not really seeing it. All she can think about is the lingering scent on her skin ... and the bite on her shoulder, the one she'd discovered, the one she'd gotten as payback for the one she'd given.

 _Love me._

* * *

The elevator doors open at their usual, leisurely pace, but Todd forces his way out, shoving his key in the door, and pushing it open. It swings back, revealing the dark insides of the penthouse. The only light coming in is through the big window, the moon throwing a bluish cast on everything.

He walks in, slowly, looking all around as he gets to the middle of the living room. He stops, listening to the sounds of ... nothing. The house is empty. He doesn't have to check any other rooms or go upstairs to make sure...he just knows. He can feel the absence of her, of his kids. Téa and the boys are nowhere near him ... and he can feel them receding, getting farther and farther away with every passing moment. He stands there, frozen...helpless...not having any idea what to do now…

...and the silence starts to fill with the noise of different voices...

 _...she wants protection ... but you can't give it to her...she wants to be free of her pain, but you can't release her because you are too broken…_

 _...Marty Saybrooke. Who's that? And what's 'raped?' Is that something bad...?_

 _...DON'T YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT RESPECT?! THESE ARE MY THINGS, STARR!_ _ **MINE!**_ _STAY OUT OF MY THINGS! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!_ _ **STAY OUT OF MY THINGS!**_

Todd cringes at the sound of his own voice and at the image it brings with it…

 _...Daddy, please...I didn't mean to, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, PLEASE!_

 _...DON'T EVER!_ _ **EVER**_ _DO THIS AGAIN! DO YOU HEAR ME?!_ _ **DO YOU?!"**_

He is a monster with Starr in his bloody clutch… and Téa looks at him in horror...

 _...get outta here, Todd…_

 _...so she looks elsewhere for that protection now...and in doing so she betrays you…_

The voices swirl around him like ghostly breezes, getting too close, going right through him, cutting him to pieces...

 _...what's wrong...? You still afraid...? Don't be ... it'll be easy to love me, to be mine...come on ... love me…_

...and before Todd even knows what he's doing, he's grabbed the closest thing he can find, a huge vase off of the mantle. The noise in his head reaches a horrible pitch, too loud, too many voices surrounding him...closing in…

 _"...like me this way, Pops...don't I deserve this ... ain't it all jus' perfect? The curse of the Mean Old Daddies ... ha ha ha..."_

With a gut-wrenching cry, Todd throws the vase and it smashes against the big window with a piercing sound...sending pieces flying everywhere.

* * *

Roseanne nearly jumps out of her skin, and she lets out a harsh breath, her eyes wide. A few of the other inmates look over at her, but Oba just raises an eyebrow.

"Somet'ing wrong, cher?"

Roseanne looks at her with dinner-plate-sized eyes. "Ohhh," she breathes, touching her chest. "Ohgod… I just… I dunno, I… I felt something..."

"Mmmm...dat is obvious."

Roseanne looks around quickly, then leans in closer. "Something just happened, something… BIG."

Oba nods. "Mmm...dat is...ALSO obvious."

Roseanne licks her dry lips, sitting back again, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Oba watches her for a moment, then grins.

"I t'ink...jou feel t'ing falling into place. Dat's what *I* t'ink," she says, quietly. Roseanne looks up at her… then grins too, nodding in agreement but then the grin quickly disappears.

At least, she _thinks_ she agrees.

 **To be continued….**


	10. Chapter 10

**ART** **OF THE DARK - PART 10**

 _Another planet...this place...looks like another planet._

That's what Téa thinks as the small motorboat putts along in the dark, black waves with silvery caps smashing into the side of the boat, roughing it up, pushing it back and forth. Teeth chattering from the intense cold and wetness, she glances up at the man at the controls, a stranger to her. He'd met her at the tiny airport where she had finally landed, _so_ many hours after she'd left home with the twins.

 _Let's see,_ she thinks. _I've changed planes twice, ridden in a car for at least two hours after that, and now I'm on this ratty-ass boat...Jesus...what the HELL was I thinking?_

A mild level of panic washes over her and she looks around wildly. But there's nothing to see...god only knows what time it is...what _day_ it is. They're in the middle of a large body of water in the middle of the night. That's all there is to know. Tears form in her eyes for the millionth time, as she lifts the blanket covering the boys' seats, and starts fussing over them, not knowing what else to do. She re-tucks them in, feeling their foreheads with her gloved hands.

The boys stir and squirm in the seats, starting to become more and more uncomfortable as time goes on. Téa curses under her breath, knowing this isn't good for them, traveling for so long, being out in the cold. They're too young and too vulnerable to handle this and she should _know_ that. Evan starts to kick, making unhappy noises. The man driving the boat glances over as Téa takes him out of the seat. She clutches him to her chest, wrapping the blanket she's wearing around them both. She shushes him, or tries to, sniffling as she rocks him. The man driving flicks his cigarette out into the water, blowing out the last of the smoke.

"He alright?" he asks in his British accent, speaking to her for the first time. Téa looks up at him, surprised, then she sniffles again, her nose starting to run from the cold.

"Not really. It's too cold out here."

"Ahhh," the man says, splitting his attention between her and the water. He adjusts the wheel a touch, effortlessly, it seems. "Well, pity that."

Téa makes a face at his callous tone. "Umm...look, not to be pushy, but...where are we going?"

He looks back at her, studying her this time. "We'll be there soon enough...then you can get the poor lads into a nice, heated car."

She rolls her eyes. "Another car...great," she mutters. Then she shushes Evan some more, her heart breaking at his fussy cries, his obvious discomfort. She feels like the worst parent ever. But then she looks over at Brendan and, as usual, he just sits there in the seat, staring back at her. She almost laughs because it is incredible, ridiculously incredible, how calm he is. Sure, he's squirming and undoubtedly as uncomfortable as Evan but he just isn't making a big deal out of it. The look on his face as he stares back at her is almost a "what're you lookin' at?"

Unable to help it, Téa cracks up at him and finds herself calming down as a result. She reaches over, takes his hand, and kisses it. Just then, she feels the engine downshifting, the steady roar becoming more like an idle. She looks up at the stranger who looks back at her with a grin, pointing off to the side. Téa looks, and sees lights that seem to have just appeared out of nowhere. She sighs, relieved to at least _see_ something besides the water. She turns on her little bench-like seat, tightening her hold on Evan as the boat approaches the docks.

She sees a few small buildings and a couple of similar boats tied to the other docks that are listing back and forth. Her nose wrinkles at the strong smell of salt water and dead fish. Then she looks up and sees a figure standing on the dock they're about to tie on to. With the light coming from behind, the person is silhouetted but it doesn't matter. She knows who it is.

Evan's fussing gets louder, drawing her attention back to him. The boat rocks as it gets pulled in toward the dock and Téa quickly grabs onto Brendan's seat to keep him from sliding away. She sees the rope thrown around the pile, sees it getting wrapped and tied. The driver then steps toward her, immediately going for Brendan's seat.

Instinctively, Téa stops him. "What're you doing?" She knows her fear is obvious.

The man backs off, hands up. "Whoa, whoa... relax, love. Jus' givin' you a hand is all."

She hesitates, looking him up and down. The man actually chuckles, seemingly to laugh at her, "You're more than welcome to TRY and get you AND your nippers up that ladder."

"My _what?"_

He just shakes his head and extends his hand once more before muttering, "Your bairn, children... _nippers_."

Téa rolls her eyes, glancing over at the makeshift wooden thing he called a ladder which was hardly that, nailed to the side of the dock and not very well at that. She sighs, realizing once again that she's in very unfamiliar territory and with a conciliatory face, she lets go of Brendan's seat, allowing him to take it.

"Sorry," she says quietly.

The man nods, picking Brendan up, then gesturing for her to go first. Téa stands up, wobbling with the boat as the man catches her elbow and gently guides her to the ladder. She looks at it, realizing that she doesn't quite know how to climb it without letting go of Evan. Just then, a shadow falls on her face, cast by the man standing there. He squats down at the top of the ladder, his hands out to her.

"I'll take him," he says, and she's struck for a second at the sound of the voice. She stares up at his shadowy face a moment and then hands a fussing Evan over to him. She watches as he puts him on his shoulder, then offers her his free hand. A surge of electricity runs through her arm as she takes it. Real or imagined, she doesn't know.

Once she's up on semi-solid ground, the two of them stand there, surprised to see each other again, even though they knew they would. Téa gets a better look at Dean now, though his face is still covered by the shadow of his baseball cap. She sees the two waiting cars behind him, both of them running. He makes a face, something like a smile, then hands Evan back to her, still crying. She wraps him up in her coat again, watching as Dean goes back and takes Brendan from the driver who then climbs up with Evan's empty seat and the one bag she'd packed.

Evan's fussing becomes full-on crying now. Téa tries to shush him, but knows it won't do any good. The poor kid's just too cold, too hungry, too uncomfortable. She shrugs a little, explaining, "I'm sorry but I need to feed them. We better get going."

Dean nods and puts Brendan down a second to pull an envelope out of his jacket and hand it to the other man. "Thanks, man," he says, "I'll take it from here."

The man nods at him, then at Téa. "Pleasure doin' business wit'ya," he says, then walks off, toward one of the cars. He jumps in and drives off, quickly disappearing. A quick moment of awkwardness falls between Téa and Dean, but Evan's insistent crying breaks it.

"C'mon, let's get them in the car," he says, grabbing both seats and the bag. A whoosh of heat from inside the car hits Téa as Dean opens the back door for her. She gets in, surprised again and taken off-guard by his thoughtfulness. Only a thoughtful person would have made sure the heater was already running. The weirdness of that thought-and the whole situation in general-sends a chill down her back. She does not forget who this is, what he did. But just as strong as the kidnapping burns inside so do the memories of his rescuing her from those men… and now from…

 _Don't say it. Don't think it. This is best. This is needed._

She wills the complicated thoughts away, turning her attention back to the boys. Dean places Brendan beside her, before closing the door and getting in front. They drive around the area, and Téa caresses Evan. He's quiet, probably from the change of scenery. They snake about blocks and blocks of abandoned factories. One or two are up and running and if it was daytime Téa imagines she'd see smoke stacks but most are empty. She looks at the buildings with a growing, dreaded sense of deja vu. She tries to will it away but fails and the memories are back, fully formed, fully present. It wasn't that long ago she had been in a similar place with this same man but under _very_ different circumstances. It wasn't that long ago this man had drugged her, tied her up, gagged her, and stuffed her in a trunk. This man had been her enemy, this man that was still…

She doesn't want to think of him but he's in her mind now. Forced his way in. A recalled sensual bite of her lip makes her rub her mouth.

 _Todd..._

Dean is still Todd's enemy, she thinks, finishing her thought. She feels a stab of pain, the bruising kiss fading into the recesses of her mind. For the millionth time during this awful trip, she regrets what she's done and wishes she were back at home, back with her husband, back with the man she knows and loves madly.

 _WHY did I do this again? What the hell was I thinking...?_

Then she remembers.

She thinks of Starr, her little legs and feet dangling as Todd held her in that death grip, shaking her, scaring her to death. He'd lost sight of everything that was important and let his rage rule, endangering those nearest and dearest to him. That's why she left. Because he's all in black now, and he's furious, and he frightens her to her core. He's strong and can kill a child without even trying. One _real_ shake and Starr would be dead. Her boys would be dead. She closes her eyes, feeling the urge to cry again because that simply isn't the case. Todd would never. His breakdown with Starr was an aberration, an anomaly. A freak-out. And yet here she is. 3500 miles away from home because of that… aberration.

 _Space,_ she thinks, _space and time. That's what he needs right now. That's what *I* need right now_.

She digs a bottle out of the bag on her shoulder. She shakes it up, examining the formula inside, hating how cold the bottle is. She sighs, dribbling a little on his lip to see if Evan will take it. He makes a face and twists in her arms, obviously displeased. He starts to cry once more.

"Sssshhit," she hisses under her breath, cursing at herself as she cuddles him, feeling again like the worst mother who ever lived before she gets an idea. She glances at Dean's face in the rearview mirror, his eyes seemingly glued to the road. Then, as nonchalantly as possible, she shifts around in the seat, lifting up the bulky sweater she's wearing; and with one more glance Dean's way, she reaches in and pulls her undershirt down, exposing her breast. She shuts her eyes, feeling the cold even in the heated car, as she pulls Evan in to her chest.

"God, I hope this works," she mutters, holding her breath as she watches him. She remembers the nurses in the hospital teaching her how to breastfeed, but being the modern mom, she hadn't really stuck to it. Bottles were easier with twins, even the nurses told her that and of course she had the comforts of home then. Now she was improvising and didn't really know if she had anything in her to give him. To her surprise, he accepts the nipple immediately, gravitating toward her warmth, if nothing else. She lets out an audible sigh of relief, letting her head drop back, as he finally quiets down and suckles.

In the front seat, Dean glances into the rearview and he's surprised to see Téa, a part of her breast exposed. He immediately looks back at the road, but it isn't long before his eyes dart back to her. Téa sighs just then, lifting her head back up … and makes eye contact with him in the mirror. Busted, Dean looks back at the road, clearing his throat...

Téa pulls her coat around Evan, covering herself as best she can. She looks out the window, avoiding him, feeling herself blushing with embarrassment. Then she looks back down at Evan, noticing that he isn't suckling anymore. To her amazement, he's fallen asleep. She can't help but smile at his peaceful face and she kisses his forehead. Then she looks over at Brendan, having almost forgotten about him. She has to smile again, when she sees him sleeping too, calmed by the steady vibration of the car. New tears spring to her eyes as she realizes how well the boys are behaving, how well they're taking it all, how easy they're making things for her. Sniffling, she reaches into the bag and pulls out a cloth diaper. She folds it and places it under Brendan's head, propped up against the side of the seat, making him a little pillow. Then she settles back and glances back in the mirror.

It's just the two of them now and Téa finds she has no idea what to say. Nothing seems appropriate. She sees Dean looking at her, undoubtedly thinking the same thing but after another moment, he clears his throat again.

"Uh...they alright?"

Téa stares into the mirror, frozen again. His voice has such a strange effect on her, equally unsettling and comforting. It throws her off, and makes her search for balance. She doesn't know how she's going to manage the next few hours if this clash of emotions continues. Keeping an eye on him, she eases Evan away from her breast so she can right her clothes.

"Yeah, amazingly enough, they're both asleep."

Dean nods at that, eyes back to the road, and he grins, like he was remembering something. "It's the car. Works every time."

Téa wonders what made him say that. Was he remembering his own childhood or kidnapping Starr or kidnapping _HER,_ for that matter? Did she even want to know? She busies herself with Evan again, making sure she doesn't disturb him as she pulls her sweater down, and holds him close again, covering him with her coat.

"So...where are we going?" she asks.

"Well, I got you a place to stay, this little cottage-type thing. It's out of the way, so nobody'll bother you."

She swallows at that, not sure if she should be thanking him or calling for help. Then she rolls her eyes, realizing how childish she's being. She set this up, she's gotta live with it. Whatever had transpired between them before could no longer matter. The fact was that he was helping her now and that she asked for it. She wanted THIS because in her mind, THIS was the safest route for her children, for herself. She repeats it in her mind, sighing heavily again, and nods to herself.

 _You set this up. You need to come to terms._

She breathes and tries to be as calm as the boys. She digs deep and a bit of her lawyer-self pops out. Her voice is surprisingly sharp. "I hope you realize that I need to get a few things. Diapers, formula, wipies. I only brought enough for the trip over."

He nods, slowing down as they come to an intersection, then turning off the main road. "Yeah, I thought of that. I picked up some stuff, but if it's not the right thing, y'know, just… jot it down, and I'll go get it."

She stares at him, her defenses on display. She can't control it.

He sees her hard look in the rear-view and shrugs it off. She doesn't trust him, not all the way, and he gets it. He owes her so much, so much recompense. He wishes she could understand that he'd never hurt her again. Not in a million years. He tries to tell her, silently.

"I haven't seen a store," she snaps. "Anywhere."

He smiles, just a quick flash, "Well, we're kinda off the beaten path, tryin' to keep you off the grid. No such thing as a supermarket out here in _ye olde_ boonies."

It took her a second or two. He made a joke. He's mocking England. She softens a little as she looks out the window again, her shoulders dropping. Just a little. He's right about staying out of cities. She'd not be easily found here.

.

"Yeah...guess not," she murmurs.

They drive the rest of the way in silence, albeit slightly less tense. After another five miles or so, Dean turns off the road and onto a dirt path. Téa looks out as the trees open up into a clearing, revealing the small house. Dean pulls the car around to the back of the tiny place, parking there and getting out. He opens the back door, offering a hand to her. It is a strange thing to see him standing there. Her kidnapper, her rescuer.

 _You asked for this. You believed in this._

She takes his hand, letting him pull her. She holds Evan closer as she watches Dean handle Brendan. He takes his own coat off and puts it over the seat, shielding the baby from the cold. He shuts the door, and locks the car, the beep-beep of the security alarm sounding so loud, booming all over the place, emphasizing how quiet it is, how isolated. She swallows hard. She has to trust herself and the decision she made to come here. She decided this for a reason. She's not a crazy person.

 _Right?_

Téa follows him around to the front, their feet crunching in the gravel. Dean fumbles with the keys, opening the squeaky, wooden door and stepping aside to let her in.

She steps inside, cautiously, looking all around. Everything is dark and the place is as cold inside as it is outside. She backs up against the wall, as Dean steps around her and places Brendan's seat on the floor. He flips on a light, a single central lamp near a couch. The place is cozy.

"Sorry for the temp," he says, then goes back outside, muttering something unintelligible.

Téa picks the seat up, carrying the boys into the living room area. She sits down on the couch, the only piece of furniture except for a coffee table; and looking over at the fireplace that seems so huge in this tiny house, she wonders who was living there before. The place seems so dead, like no one had lived here in many years. Yet the couch and table aren't that old. She sighs again at her lawyerly curiosity, realizing there isn't much point in finding out the history of this place. She doesn't really want to know; not right now, anyway. She's too exhausted to care.

Dean comes back in just then, with an armload of wood from the pile out back, and her bag. He drops the wood by the fireplace, and her bag on the floor, as he sits down, huffing and puffing a little.

"GodDAMN, it's cold...shit," he says, breathing into cupped hands. Téa looks up at him with a tiny, somewhat sympathetic smile. He glances at her, then quickly goes about the business of heating the place. The boys are sleeping and she doesn't want to disturb them so she just watches Dean work the fireplace like an expert. He makes sure he cleans out the ashes and opens the flew before lighting the match. It takes a bit of nurturing but soon the kindling is lit and there's a real fire going.

Her eyes move over to the flame spreading ever so slowly over the logs. The two of them sit watching for a moment, mesmerized by the fire. Dean then holds his frozen hands up to it, nodding at the heat coming off. "Should be warming up now...won't be long," he says, catching her eye again.

Téa looks down, once again, busying herself with Evan who sleepily fussed.

"I'm amazed there's electricity here," she says, not looking at him. "Do I have to do my business in an outhouse?"

Dean smiles sheepishly at that. "Okay, maybe I went overboard on the rustic theme. But it does have a stove, hot water, full bath. No phone though, no internet. Like I said, off the grid."

Téa looks up and both of them finally get up the nerve to look each other in the eye for more than a few seconds. She nods at him, before looking back at the fire. He watches her this time, watches her gaze becoming faraway, sad.

"I'm having a hard time figuring out what to say to you," she suddenly says.

Dean cocks an eyebrow at that...then nods, with a slight laugh. "Yeah, well...same here, so."

Téa looks back at him. "Well… I should thank—"

He shakes his head violently, cutting her off before she can say the words. "No, Téa, Christ… I owe you this. That's all there is to it." They hold each other's gaze for a moment and Téa can suddenly feel the connection between them, the one that saw her to safety, as strong as ever. Whether it's good or bad, she has no idea but it's as uncomfortable as it is real. She looks away, finally, directing her eyes back to the fire burning pretty well now.

Dean clears his throat again, as he takes his coat back and puts it on. "Um...I'm gonna go get some more wood. Be right back."

Téa nods, not wanting to look up until he's gone. She hears the door open and close. Then she gets up, carefully lifting Brendan out of the seat onto the couch. She places him in the best spot to get some heat, then stands with Evan, rocking him a little as he sleeps in her arms. She gets her back and sets it on the floor so that if Brendan rolls over, the fall would be gentle. She'd change him, they should both be changed, but the idea of the bedroom and the cold of it puts her off.

She wanders into the little kitchen area, looking in the bags sitting on the counter. Bottled water and food: bread, cheese, fruit, that kind of easy, no-hassle stuff and yes, baby items. With her free arm, she digs through the bag and finds cans of some kind of instant, powdered formula she doesn't recognize. She's definitely not in Kansas anymore.

She examines the label, making sure it'll be okay for them and then for kicks, she opens the fridge. A big can of coffee and some milk. She sighs as she walks into the other room. Just as cold as she imagined. It's a small bedroom, with a smaller fireplace, and a decent-sized bed. She pushes down on the mattress, then sniffs her hand to see how musty the bedding is and surprisingly, it's not. A pile of extra blankets sits on the bed, along with several large packages of diapers.

"God," she whispers, realizing she _doesn't_ need anything else. He's taken care of it all and she didn't even have to ask. She sits down on the bed with Evan, suddenly overwhelmed by that thought and a horrible, sick feeling in her stomach.

 _This isn't right. What am I DOING here?! This is all so fucked up._

She sniffles, starting to cry, knowing exactly why she feels so sick...so empty inside…

...because Todd isn't here. Because he's been gone for such a long time.

* * *

With the precision of a deadly tornado, Todd rips the penthouse apart, rifling through everything to find a clue which would tell him into which dark forest of the world his wife and their two precious children have disappeared. Because surely, it must be far, it must be goddamned light years away to escape _him ..._ to escape that consuming anger he treasures.

Room by room, he wrecks the perfect decor, tearing down the semblance of a beautiful life that once held so much promise. Grunts and growls can be heard, the fluttering of paper, the slamming closed of drawers, the occasional shattering of something valuable.

 _Where ... where is she? Tell me ... where she's run to._

RJ follows the path of destruction like the shadow of a setting sun, reviewing the rejected paperwork, checking and double-checking the discarded and the ignored, ducking sometimes, but following, always following. The previous night, he listened to the phone taps and had come up empty-handed but for one miniscule section. He had heard a unique rumbling in the background of a Shelton conversation with Téa. Some noise. Right away, he sent that piece to a computer geek associate to find out what the sound could be, hoping it might indicate _where_ Shelton called from. And now, he's glad he did that because in the end, after exhausting family as Téa's destination, RJ believes — no, he _knows_ Shelton holds the answers.

He can remember all too well the look in Téa's eyes at the mention of her kidnapper, the protectiveness there, the flicker of comfort. But she's wrong, he argues, she's confused, lost. She should be home with her family, with her husband _... right?_ He watches him at that.

 _Right, she should be with him? With Todd?_

Todd's cool as he tosses and picks and crumples and breaks and reads, his eyes quick, animal-like. The man's facial expressions barely change from the scowl he wears. He's more like a machine, RJ concludes. Gotta job, don't be distracted, get it done. Read, contemplate, evaluate.

 _Whatcha gonna do, Toddie-boy, when you get your hands on that Téa of yours? You gonna save her… or are you gonna kill her?_

It's done now. The penthouse has been ransacked and nothing has been found to tell Todd where Téa went with the boys. RJ isn't sure it's all bad; he's worried for Téa, wants her someplace safe, yet can't decide what's worse, a jaunt with Shelton or a confrontation with Todd. Can't make up his mind ... at the moment.

"The FUCK did she GO?!" Todd's voice is gravelly and he collapses onto the couch ... real goddamn tense. Understandably. His knee bounces as he restrains that anger, that wildness threatening to break free. It's right there, black and venomous. Then he turns darkened eyes to RJ, renewed accusation brimming. Long hair has fallen into his face, the stringy locks shivering ever so slightly with the tremors running through his tight body.

Shaking his head responsively, RJ grumbles, "You better point those pit bull eyes someplace else, bro, 'cause this ISN'T MY deal. I ain't got nothin' to do with THIS."

But the words go nowhere.

"What do you know?" Todd jumps to his feet moving closer to RJ, who lifts his chin in defiance, who stands firm, his eyes slimming. He isn't going to take Todd's shit-filled assault. _No way._

"Come on, buddy o' mine, old friend, old enemy. Tell me where the hell she is. Where ... where'd you put her?! WHERE'D YOU PUT MY KIDS?!"

Todd pushes RJ, pushes him back, hands on RJ's chest until finally RJ tires of Todd's antics, and pushes back hard. "Give it up, okay, bitch," RJ growls, "... 'cause the more you fight, the LESS motivated I'm gonna be to help you. You get that?! Do you?!"

Todd wants to hit RJ, wants to pummel him 'til he doesn't move, 'til he bleeds with the pain he feels right now _... right now._ He wants to cry suddenly except it's not tears that come, it's bile and hate. Lots of hate. A when that hate finally explodes, it's gonna end up hurting the innocents like shrapnel from a bomb. Todd knows this, he really does, but it doesn't stop shit.

"Awww fuck you! You're hiding her ... aren't ya? Aren't ya? What ... wanna keep her to yourself? Huh? Why? WHY YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!"

"You let this go, Manning! I am trying to help you! GET A FUCKIN' GRIP!" RJ is angry, both men breathing hard, that fury about to burst except they're not sure who to battle. Can't tell who the enemy is anymore, because it's hidden, laughing at them as they bump along in the mirrored fun house with the scary faces, the scary sounds, the darkness.

 _Hahahaha ... fools ... look at you, blind, deaf and dumb…_

Taking a deep breath, RJ approaches Todd carefully who stares back, breathing hard, waiting ...

"Listen, bro', ... gonna be honest here. You scaring the shit outta me 'cause you real fuckin'mad. And I gotta know where that mad is aimed. Is it Téa for leaving? You mad AT her?"

Silence washes through the penthouse, the gentle boom of the elevator way down the hall resonates in a gentle wave. The refrigerator deep in the kitchen kicks on, sending off another nearly soundless wave. The two men stand feet apart regarding one another ... and since they can't catch hold of a visible enemy, they look to each other as an acceptable substitute. Todd doesn't blink, doesn't move. He answers softly.

"No... not at all mad AT her. Just want her home, want my kids home."

"But… why she running from you then? You do something OTHER than what happened with Starr, which is some fucked up shit, don't get me wrong, but is there something else you ain't told me about? Something that coulda scared her? 'Cause …"RJ sniffs and chews on his lip. Takes a breath and smooths out his beard. Glares at Todd. "'Cause if you did… that wouldn't be cool ... with me."

"I want my wife home, my kids. Told you that. She must be… having some kinda breakdown. Or something."

Todd didn't move from his position across from RJ. Didn't break his hard judgmental gaze.

"What's with you, Manning? Take a good look at yourself. In that mirror over there."

Todd turns after a second, by instinct maybe. He sees his reflection with RJ behind him, his silky voice stirring the air. "You look like shit, like someone somebody should be running FROM. That hickey ... it's ugly. You said you didn't get it from any tramp so where'd it come from? And ... did Téa see it?"

Todd's reflection wavers a little and he knows it's exhaustion, hunger, thirst.

"No," he says finally. Fingertips on the bruise. "She never saw it."

"So where'd you GET it?"

"A woman."

"Well, thank god for that. Not that there's anything wrong with it but that'd be whole other level of mess I jus' ain't prepared for. So… what woman?"

"I don't know who she is ... but she wasn't real ... or she was."

"Lawd, what the hell does THAT mean?"

Todd cranes his neck, outright rubbing the spot but without panic. He measures its size, its bruised nature. His tongue runs along his lips, leaving a trail of wetness. He looks into his own eyes, seeing how empty they look. He remembers her, remembers sucking hard on the woman's skin, giving her his own hickey, practically biting her, wanting to, nearly drawing blood while he fucked her hard. Maybe he did bite her? Except he can't say where on her body he left his marks but he can taste her now, he can taste the shimmering sweat on her skin, the saltiness lingering still. Hair, he thinks, she had long black hair and bony hips he grabbed onto, thinking he could crush her. Even though her physicality differed from Téa's, there was _something_ about her that made him think of Téa. Oh hell, maybe it was just the act itself, the actual sex.

 _No ... no ... no ..._ nothing like with his Téa.

He breathes in deeply, RJ fading into the background, his own reflection freeing his thoughts. _No._ They did not _made love_ , no. He devoured her. They had fought on the ground of the mausoleum like two tigers fighting for territory, growling and clawing and penetrating each others' space, a distinctly nonsexual battle. The fucking was about power, about winning and losing, about killing the rival. The kind of sex that wasn't sex. The kind of act… he thought he'd left behind.

"Yeah," Todd rumbles, more to himself than RJ who has settled back again ... moving around Todd, studying him ... acting the shadow again. RJ is then on his cell for some minutes, animated as he talks, a hand waving, demanding. In the mirror Todd sees this happening. Then, once again, RJ tries talking to him...except the words jumble and mix, falling over each other, spitting and hissing and scratching to gain form.

Before long, Todd hears comprehensible language ... _yes, yes ..._ he understands what's coming out of his friend's mouth ... and he turns, face to face now. Pays close attention. Sees someone _other_ than RJ …

 _Boy ... little boy ... broken child, can you hear me talking to you? Can you hear me as I hold you tight beneath me?_

"You don't have to shout ... I can hear you," Todd says and the mouth pauses mid-word, brows furrowed. Then the lips begin moving again ... slowly …

 _You are small on that lonely beach, sand scratching skin, wind stinging eyes. You've been left behind by your love, by your family, by your protectors. Child all alone, listen to them laugh at you. So fast they run. Makes you want to taste their blood ... your tongue tingles with anticipated relief. I can see it on your face ... your once-dead eyes waken and shine with agonized pleasure at taking souls once more ... at tearing them apart and watching their bodies writhe with the loss of their spirits. Listen to the sounds coming from inside of you ... you're so thankful, so powerful ... again. Kiss me ... love me ... see me in those around you, hurt boy in that man's body. Take her the way you did once before ... overpower her ... because it's SHE who has left you. She ... is gone with another. Loving him, praising him. Can you see them bound together in the desolate beyond ... can you see her taking the comfort he offers ... sighing with delight and crying with love? Can you see them together caring for your children, for your little men fighting to live? She's stolen them from you ... and has given away herself to deprive you…"_

"...punishment ... it's all about punishment. It's your turn now."

"HEY..." RJ's harsh voice brings Todd to his senses, Todd blinking and shaking his head, clearing the familiar images put there, to the pictures still playing.

"Answer me!"

"Get the hell outta of my way," Todd curses as he pushes RJ aside.

RJ quickly grabs him by the arm though, stopping him from walking away. "I asked you a question, my man," RJ repeats, "you keep talking about betrayal. What are you gonna do with Téa if you find her?"

"I never said anything about 'betrayal.'"

"What?! The fuck is wrong with you, man?! You've said it like fifty times now! You still drunk?!"

"Shut up!" Todd tries to jerk his arm away except RJ hangs on, his hand firm. "You ain't goin' anywhere like this. Not until you cool off and let me in on your plan. WHAT you gonna do? C'mon, Manning... lemme help you."

Todd listens, thinks about the offer, or rather pretends to think about it because he already has an idea as to what to do. First thing is to search RJ's office. Next thing is see the one family member RJ _hasn't_ checked up on: Roseanne Delgado. Delgado with the long black hair ... and the thin, narrow hips ... but he has to get outta here first ... and has to do it alone. Because later ... later ... when he learns of Téa's whereabouts, he'd need to talk to her _...talk, talk ..._ get clarification, get understanding, get a taste of her. Suddenly, without warning, Todd raises his closed fist and pounds RJ hard on the side of his head. RJ looks dazed for an instant, as he reaches for his friend and then falls in a helpless clump onto the carpeted floor.

Todd stands over him, sniffles, and says softly, "Traitor." He spits on the downed man because that's what RJ is, a traitor to Todd and to Téa because he probably let her go, probably stood at the airport and waved goodbye to Todd's children, probably kissed Téa on the cheek and congratulated whoever was stealing her away.

"Fuck all of you," he hisses, storming out the door and slamming it behind him.

* * *

Roseanne stirs in her sleep, her head tossing back and forth until she finally wakes up. She sits up, slowly, like an old woman with complaining bones and joints. She wraps a hand around the back of her neck, rubbing it to soothe herself then she looks at her hand, suddenly noticing how sweaty she is. She looks down at her bedding, touching it...feeling the dampness in the stiff, starched cotton.

"Damn," she breathes, turning to look for her teacher in the cell across the way. Roseanne glances up and down the hall, listening, .making sure the guards aren't nearby, before whispering.

"Oba? You awake?"

No response at first. Then Roseanne sees the familiar orange dot of light fading in. Oba's cigarette. "Of course, _cher_. What is it?" she replies, from her darkened cell.

Roseanne squints, unable to see her. "I don't...I dunno," she starts, rubbing the back of her neck again. God, it was so stiff. She wasn't used to it. Usually, she felt great when she woke up. She couldn't understand why she felt so...different.

"...I don't feel so good," she says, her breathing picking up speed. Again, Oba takes her time answering, finishing her cigarette before turning on her cot, bringing her face up to the bars, into the dim light.

"Tell me, _cher_...tell me what's wrong."

Roseanne finds her hand drifting down from her neck to her shoulder. She feels the bite marks and stops, jumping a little as she does so which Oba notices immediately.

"You've been favorin' that shoulder. It hurts you?" she asks and then notices Roseanne's complexion, as she moves up to the bars. She's pale, covered in sweat, like she has a fever. Concerned more about Roseanne's abilities than her health, Oba grabs the bars, pulling herself up so she can see her better. "Oh, child," she says, sounding as motherly as she can, "tell me."

Roseanne grips the bars on her side, resting her head on her hand. "I...I didn't tell you everything."

Oba's eyebrow goes up at that. "Oh, _cher_...I know dat."

Roseanne nods and half-laughs, feeling more of her energy being sucked away.

"He bit me."

Oba lets her head tip back, as she studies her, then she nods as well. "So," she says, nodding some more. "So I was right about him."

Roseanne closes her eyes for a second, silently assenting. Then she zones out for a moment, thinking deeply, before looking back at Oba. "I'm scared, Oba. I don't know what I'm doing. I mean, I thought I did… but… I dunno… I don't know if I can beat him."

Oba just watches her movements without a word, as Roseanne continues to ramble on, unintelligibly. She starts to become more fidgety, hugging herself and squirming around like she's in pain which starts to worry Oba, so she concentrates, using all her power to focus, to see into Roseanne's very core…

...and once she sees...her eyes widen.

"Oh," she breathes, backing away from the bars but not before a stabbing pain hits her right between the eyes. She grabs her forehead, gasping as she falls back onto her cot. Roseanne gasps too, seeing this.

"Oba...Oba?" Oba keeps backing away, as far away as she can get, which isn't very far so she sinks down into the corner, still in excruciating pain.

"Roseanne...stop...don't look at me!"

Down the hall, the guards on duty hear the growing noise and start sprinting for the cells. Roseanne leaps up into the bars.

"Oba! What's wrong?!"

"Stop looking at me, child! STOP LOOKING AT ME!"

Not knowing what else to do, Roseanne whirls around and covers her face. She hears Oba behind her, breathing hard, making soft, pained cries, and the sounds of the guards' footsteps approaching. Roseanne jumps as one of them smacks the bars of her cell with a nightstick.

"The hell's going on down here?!" the guard demands, and Roseanne swallows hard, pointing across to the other cell.

"Oba… something's wrong with her … I think she needs a doctor." The guard makes a 'yeah, right' face at her, but looks in to Oba's cell anyway, shining his flashlight in. He sees the woman crumpled up in the corner, looking like she'd just been knocked out cold. The two guards exchange glances, then one radios in as the other opens the cell.

Time seems to flash by and before Roseanne knows it, she's watching them carry Oba out on a stretcher. She cranes her neck to see, as they cart her off to the infirmary. Then she covers her mouth, falling back down onto her cot as she starts to cry, as she cries for her friend, as she worries that she caused her pain.

And she can feel it inside. She feels Oba there, inside her, like she just reached in and taken a piece of her mind without even knowing it. But then, her insides churn, changing, heating up. She can taste the acid in her throat and curls up in a ball on the cot, racked with pain, a strange, new pain, different from Oba, different than anything she's ever felt before. She moans softly, with the waves as they come and go, feeling her insides, her very self twisting, transforming.

With a gasp, she sits up because she hears the whipping wind on the bleak shore, the flapping of a coat's length, and a calm, knowing laugh flying across time and space. Bringing her knees up, she smacks sweating palms against her eyes.

"No ... no," she cries silently.

 _Little girl, little lost waif, know that I possess your infant self, that I have taken your insignificant soul into my being. You cannot win against me because you are nothing. You spray your mystic powers like sand in a desert, mist in an ocean ... harmless flickers of your wormy tongue wetting my skin. Does the bite not fester? Does it not bleed black beneath your rotting flesh?_

When she opens her eyes, she knows they are in another plane. He licks his lips and grins, and his hazel-colored eyes hold her so strongly that she cannot move. Voiceless words then pummel her once more.

 _I am coming for you._

 **To be continued...**


	11. Chapter 11

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 11**

A young male's voice wakes Téa up. She opens her eyes, and squints, listening, trying to recognize it. _Someone singing?_ Not really. It's too angry and thrashing to be a _song._ A song implies beauty and there's nothing beautiful about what she's hearing. It's just loud-and-pissed to a beat.

 _Ugh… rap-rock …_ she finally realizes as she sits up, slowly. Her joints feel stiff and bent from sleeping in an odd position. As she straightens up, she looks around and doesn't know where she is. This is a different place entirely. It's a run-down house with graffiti all over the walls. The only light is from a trash fire somewhere out in the hall. The smell of the smoke mixed with other nasty odors, stings her nose.

She stands up quickly, trying to get her bearings. Then she realizes something else. This place isn't unfamiliar at all. She's been here before. Her mouth falls open as she looks around again, and the place reintroduces itself, sending a flood of bad memories back through her. A hard breath catches in her throat as she runs out of the room and down the hall, frantically looking for the way out.

"God, no, no," she whispers as she runs and runs; but the hallway just keeps going, stretching out for miles in front of her, it seems. She becomes aware of another sound, underneath the deafening rap. _A woman?_ Someone is crying out. Téa stops, trying to find the source. She hears it again, coming from a room just in front of her. A girl's muffled cries.

"Help me!"

Téa's breath catches again, as she walks toward the sound, cautiously. She hears struggling, more crying...muffled...as if the girl were gagged, her mouth covered. Téa shuts her eyes, afraid to see what's going on...but knowing she must. The rap continues on over it all, hiding the sounds of resistance, as she cranes her neck, peering into the room.

She hears a loud, fleshy _SLAP!_ which makes her jump. Her eyes open again wide when she sees the girl on the floor, her face turned to one side, reeling from the hit. A man...no...a teenager...a boy...hovers over her, whispering to her. The girl cries, still trying to squirm and struggle her way out of his grasp. But he holds her in, his body doubling sort-of as a cage.

"No...please...let me go!" she cries but the boy just laughs at her, whispering to her again. Téa stands outside the door, swallowing hard, trying to get up the nerve to intervene. She looks at the boy, long and hard, finding something familiar about him, even though she's never seen him before. Longish, light-colored hair hides his face; and dark, dingy clothes hang loosely on his scrawny frame. Téa swallows again, finding herself getting angrier, as she watches him terrorize the girl.

"HEY!" she finally yells, with a volume and strength that carries over all the noise, just like a mother. The girl looks right over, crying now with relief. The boy takes longer though, turning his head slowly, deliberately. And Téa's breath catches in her throat once again when he finally makes eye contact with her because it's as if...she's looking at herself.

The face that faces her is her own but not entirely. Her features are mixed with someone else's. The boy grins maliciously, with a rage that lights his eyes green, blue and brown all at the same time.

Just like Todd's.

 _...oh my god…_

* * *

Téa coughs, almost choking, as she bolts upright in bed. Eyes still closed, she freezes immediately, afraid to see where she might be now. She breathes hard, panicked, as she opens her eyes. Then her shoulders start to relax, dropping down as she recognizes the room, the tiny house, her hiding place, deep in the middle of nowhere.

She brings her knees up under the covers, to support her elbows as she buries her head and cries for a moment, purging the nightmare. Then she hears a soft gurgling, the unmistakable sound of the babies. She looks up, toward the small, portable crib on the floor in front of the fireplace. Through the mesh net, she can see the boys lying there, legs kicking, arms flailing, doing what babies do. Sniffling, Téa looks at her watch to see how long she'd been asleep, wondering how long they'd been awake.

Had she neglected them? Had they been crying?

She throws the covers off and quickly moves over to them, bending down to scoop Evan up, always attending to the needy one first. The baby makes a high-pitched cooing noise, like a bird, as she hugs him.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, _mi chiquito_ ," she whispers, burying her face in his little shoulder, comforting herself as well as him. Evan kicks happily, seemingly content for a change, as she looks down at Brendan. When she makes eye contact with him, with those steady eyes of his, her stomach drops. It was him... _his_ eyes she'd seen. She takes a deep breath, reaching in to touch him. She finds herself actually hesitating for a second. She has to clear her head with another deep breath to move the rest of the way to touch the baby's tummy. Once she does, though, his softness and warmth go right up her arm, erasing the horrible images.

She relaxes a little, rubbing his belly soothingly while Brendan opens his mouth wide, in the way babies usually show their approval. His eyes light up green-blue-brown with happiness, with recognition of her, and not a trace of anger. Relieved, Téa smiles as she squeezes his toes affectionately, then looks over toward the window, seeing streaks of light cutting through the musty curtains. Shifting Evan around onto her other shoulder, Téa walks over and peeks out, squinting at the drab daylight. She sees the gravel drive, the trees beyond, the tall weeds all around the house...about all there is to see. She sighs, coming away from the window...patting Evan's back as she puts him back down next to Brendan. Then she opens the squeaky bedroom door and steps into the main room. She's trying to be quiet as she heads for the kitchen to cook up some formula for the boys. She looks over toward the couch, where she assumes Dean is sleeping...as her hand reaches for a small pot on a shelf.

 _PA-PING! CRASH!_

Téa cringes as the pot clatters to the floor, the noise quickly dying down. She looks over at the couch, expecting Dean to be jumping up. But he doesn't. After picking up the pot, she walks over toward the couch, curious, and sees he's not there. It only takes one look to either side of her to see that she's alone.

She grabs her coat and runs outside, to the back of the house, to the car. When she gets there, it's gone. Sighing harshly, she throws her hands up in frustration. Her breath comes out in steamy clouds as she looks all around, uselessly...knowing he certainly isn't hiding in the woods or anything. Nope...she's alone. Stranded. Trapped. She almost starts to cry, but anger pulls the tears back. She looks up at the sky, then down at the featureless woods that surround her like a fortress. She and the boys are miles from the nearest town, even a good five or ten from the nearest house. She is, in the classic sense _...fucked._

With a low grumble, Téa kicks at the gravel as she turns and storms back into the house, slamming the door behind her.

* * *

Sure, it took him a while to figure it out, to dig up this one piece of the puzzle, but he feels closer to Téa because of it, closer to learning where she had run off to and that's what matters. He can't remember exactly what triggered the final connection. Maybe the scent of mildew-covered concrete on her frigid skin or the way the funereal moonlight belly-danced in the gloss of her dead eyes, eyes that saw him through prison walls, over barbed wire. Could have even been her bony structure...ankles, ribs, hips jabbing into his flesh, a skinny body thanks to anemic prison food. Or maybe it was the feel of metal handcuffs scraping down his back, ankle cuffs frigid against his calves.

 _Fucking Roseanne._

That's right, the whole picture of her smashed together in one brutalizing moment, somewhere between his wrecked bedroom and the unconscious Randall James Gannon laid out on the living room floor, spat upon. He needs more, though, more information, more proof... more.

"Sorry about that, man," Todd mumbles to himself, glancing up at a blackish cloud shifting above him. "Had no choice, Gannon. You were in my way."

The Llantano County Women's Correctional Facility mars the looming skyline in front of him, graying the emerald hills and muddying serene country estates. Government-sanctioned hell, Todd sniffs, leaning back against the door of his truck as he considers prison life, remembering, preparing to step back into that world. He will need everything inside of him, all that power to face her, to face prison. Fingering the bruise on his neck, he inhales the chilled air and relaxes, lets his mind wander, lets it drift away, swirling around his still body, quick as a snake in water. But then that snake grows wings and rises up dragon-like into the sky, a wild plume of energy piercing the clouds, turning mid-air and crashing down in a burst of sparks and light, landing invisibly before Roseanne Delgado.

"And so she shows herself," he breathes.

Strange the way he senses her, because he doesn't exactly "see" her, no, it is more of a vivid, spatial awareness. Every detail of her sharp-featured being presses into him. Her black hair flaps in the breeze. The bright prison jumpsuit covering her familiar bony figure. An old tattoo on the inside of her forearm hissing, _"Dreamgirl."_ Smallish black letters march a goose step across perfect buttery mocha skin. She grins, smirks, but then grows serious, and suddenly she looks him directly in the eyes.

"Ohhh look, it's my cemetery lover," she whispers. "You found ME, but what about THEM? Can you hear your babies crying, Todd? Can you see their sweet bellies, their biteable toes?" A chuckle belts out into a laugh, almost a cackle, as she concludes, "No...I BET you CAN'T."

Poof, the vision disintegrates and Todd shakes his head, thinking he dreamt the pictures. He knows better, though. He _saw_ Roseanne just now, stood in front of her, and _she_ saw _him._ Anger simmers in the pit of his stomach, knowing how close he is to evil's teat offering a sugary suck.

Let me taste the milk if only a drop, he thinks, enough to shut her up, enough to his disgust at her mention of his boys...that bitch, that serpentine, coveting, sick bitch. He raises his hands, sees them shaking. He isn't getting through this unscathed. His own hatred has once again burned a hole in his heart and it's weakened him. It forced Téa to run, to escape what must have been her an imprisonment with him as warden, his love the bars themselves.

She wasn't wrong. What he'd done to Starr, his reaction, must have scared her something harsh, because that look on her face said it all, told him how ugly he was, how... _monstrous_. He'd run too if he could. He would crawl out of himself, slither away and be free. Straightening up, he rubs his rough chin with the back of his hand...his tongue running along the inside of his cheek, chasing around a bullet of anxiety.

Slowly, he trudges across the lot, gravel crunching beneath his feet. He has walked a similar route before, crossed ruined county asphalt when he'd been released from the men's facility way back when. He had hope in those days, thinking of another woman. Thinking she'd love him, she'd free him. He remembers the crushed hope, too, not so different from what he feels now.

"No woman can save you, Manning," he reminds himself as he looks left and right, absorbing the length of the building, and its seeming impenetrability.

"It's gotta come from you...inside of you." Takes a deep breath. The massive iron gate rolls open, and a hefty guard approaches him, snarling, "State your business."

"Visitation."

"Name?"

"Roseanne Delgado."

"You family?"

"Extended - she's my sister-in-law. Bringing her news."

The man regards Todd suspiciously. Chews on his fat lip a moment and then nods him in. "'Spect to be searched. Don't be shy."

"Yeah...right."

The thought of a cop's hands poking at him makes him edgy and he swallows back the hesitation. Reaches deep and forces himself to forget about it, to think instead of why he's here, sweet bellies and biteable toes. Then he focuses his attention on Roseanne.

He gets stopped at the next checkpoint. The guard checks his identification, flipping the card front and back, then types Todd's name into the computer. After a second, he looks back up, a strange little grin playing on thin lips.

"Todd Manning. Nice record."

"Mmm...glad our U.S. of A. is still hiring literates to work our beloved prison system."

The guard gives him an unimpressed, 'hardy-har-har' look. "Hands behind your head, Mr. Manning. Spread 'em." He then adds, too close to Todd's ear, "Welcome home."

"Fucker," Todd grumbles, shaking his head as he assumes the familiar stance of hands raised and feet apart, He grunts at the intrusion, hands patting him, checking for contraband. He hates this place even though it's the women's side of things, hates being under a cop's screws again, even this way. The guard backs away and stares Todd down.

"You carrying?"

"Yeah, a lot of patience."

"Y'know, I COULD strip-search you. Your record entitles me to do that-"

"I'm not carrying anything other than the clothes on my back, wallet and keys," Todd replies, abruptly cutting him off. Another guard snorts arrogantly and then after a moment or two, motions for the first guard to wave Todd through...adding that quitting time was near and that Delgado wasn't a known druggie...so contraband wasn't likely to be found, as fun as a strip-search might be.

The doors unlock noisily and in seconds, Todd follows another officer down a series of barred hallways, a disconcerting silence surrounding them.

"This is your lucky day," the guard says as they walk, with a distinct lack of emotion. "They just finished putting in the new visiting room. No more chatting through bulletproof glass." Todd eyes him, taking the information in as they get to the end of the hall. The new guard stops and says, "Wait here. This gate'll buzz open. And remember...no funny business. NO TOUCHING. Just talking."

Then he walks away, leaving Todd alone. He lets out a heavy sigh of odd relief at that and grabs onto the bars. Leans forward to feel the coolness of them against his cheeks, their familiarity. A mere closing of his eyes and it is him behind the bars, hitting his head against the metal to be let out, begging to be released...teeth biting his tongue and the taste of blood...so very alone despite the bodies next to him. Standing tall again, he shoos away the images, the memories. No time for self-pity, no time, no time.

A startling, buzzing sound rings out and the gate slides open, a door opening beyond that. His nose wrinkles at the smell of new paint as he walks into a large, bright room, eyeing the ten or so tables scattered throughout, chairs flanking each side. A few guards stand at various points, almost statuesque with their automatic rifles pointed towards the ceiling. No other visitors, though. Todd sits down at one of the tables, facing the door where Roseanne would soon be shuffled through. Taps his fingers against the already scratched-up, painted steel.

The door clanks open and there she is in all her trussed glory: black hair pulled back into a barely-there ponytail, a skeletal body inside an orange jumpsuit, an inmate number stamped on the pocket. Her wrists are handcuffed together, hands limp in front of her. Roseanne can barely muster a sneer as her trepidation plays out chaotically in her eyes. She looks at him strangely, like she's surprised he's actually there...like she'd seen him coming, but hadn't really been _expecting_ him.

He likes that.

"The hell do YOU want?" she grumbles. Todd rakes his eyes up and down her figure and grins.

"Is that any way to greet me, your only brother-in-law? Your friend?"

"Oh, fuck you, you sick bastard," she fires back, then screams out to the guards. "This sonofabitch isn't my brother-in-law! Arrest him!"

"Shut up, Delgado...and siddown," one of the monotone guards responds.

Todd chuckles, "Oh, they so respect _you_."

With a disgusted sigh, she plops into the hard chair across from him and hisses, "What do you want?"

"I want to know where Téa is." She laughs uproariously, finally settling in and staring at him straight on.

"Awww, what's the matter, Bo Beep? Lost your SHEEP?"

"Something like that. I think you know where she is...and I want you to tell me." He watches her lips rub together, a reddish tip of a serpentine tongue wetting them. Then, words slip out, venom spraying towards him.

"Mmmm...well, do the words, 'cold day in hell' mean anything to you?"

The air about them suddenly calms, a psychic hesitation similar to the seconds before a rocky tide washes out to sea in a rush of speed before a tsunami. The guards poise themselves to shoot...they are stilled though. Time holds them back against the walls, an unseen force pinning them in place. Nothing moves, no sounds intrude from the outside, no sounds from inside.

And in this second, minute, whatever, time become irrelevant. Todd reaches across the table, feet planted firmly on the ground, energy balled up tight. One of his hands gets a hold of a chunk of Roseanne's hair, the ponytail unraveling. The other hand grips the front of her jumpsuit, pulling it, clenching it into his tightening fist. It's as if a string has been strung right through her, and her chest juts forward like a fish caught by a hunter. Roseanne glares back at him, but it's only a show of fury...because behind the fire lurks fear.

Todd growls, close, so close to her, "Not so tough now, huh? Cemetery lover of mine."

Her eyes wander to the side and she sees the frozen men. There's no one to help her. Oba is far, far away now, ill from something...something big, undetermined, sicker than anyone can say. She probably doesn't even know about this meeting. The guards —

 _Why don't they come, why don't they stop him?_

She can feel his body, the radiating energy, the power is almost electrical. And her eyes widen slightly, realizing that _he's_ the one who's stopped the guards whether he knows it or not. They can't see her, they can't move…

...and neither can she.

"Talk to me...talk to me..." he says.

"A dream...it was a dream you had," she sputters.

"Nah-ain't no dream."

"You're making more out of this than there really is," she replies, calmly, trying to refocus.

"Stop dancing, you voodoo BITCH! TALK!"

"You're powerless against me."

"You think so?" She then notices the bite mark on his neck and realizes that she had done that to him and she can remember the taste of his skin, the smell of whiskey on his breath, everywhere.

"You're NOTHING in comparison to me," she says, new triumph lacing her words.

But something comes to him and his eyes brighten, throwing her off again. He yanks her closer to him, yanks her hard, and she grunts in response, pain maybe. He asks, smooth as syrup dripping over her body, "Yeah? Where's my bite on YOU? Hmm?"

"NOWHERE, motherfucker," she hisses back.

"Oh, come on, tell me, tell me where I bit you ... on your neck?" he purrs, kissing her neck, no, more like nibbling. He chuckles as he does it because he can hear her tortured groan, because she can't fight him. "Or is it HERE?" He's at the base of her throat now, vibrating with her animal-like groan. Her head is forced backwards and he licks her skin. "Come on...come, little lamb...come to Mary...my little, little lamb," he teases, readjusting his hold on her as he drags her up onto the table.

She lies flat like a fish...a fish flopping about as the hunter is about to gut it. She starts to scream, her body shaking with building fury.

"Ooooh, she's so MAD," he sighs, as he straddles her on the table now, pulling at her jumpsuit, searching her for the markings he knows he left on her. He finally finds it, black-and-blue human bites on her shoulder and they're infected, red, blackish, with puss and he pops up, his eyes blazing, laughing, "I was there, oh yeah, I was on you, my sweet, spirited mate!"

"Get OFF me...you fuckin' BASTARD!"

At her yell, the room suddenly sizzles with a new energy and Todd looks around him, his eyes quick and aware like an animal's. The windows begin to rattle and Roseanne sits up, moving now, able to fight now. They are face to face. He is straddling her, on his knees on the table, one knee pressing down on each side of her.

"You're an impotent, worthless, NOTHING of a human," she says between bit-down teeth, "YOU...are refuse, leftover shit."

He smirks slightly at her, stunned in truth. He tries to answer, but nothing comes out. He wants to push her back down, rip into her, make her pay, hurt her. An old, supposedly outgrown method of revenge, but he can't seem to make it happen. A strangely warm wind picks up around them, swirling, distorting space. The sound of windchimes catches his attention and he looks around for the maker of the sounds. Then he looks back at Roseanne whose big eyes are closed, as if she's meditating…

"Sand beneath your boots, your coat flaps in wild wind."

Roseanne is talking to him it seems and he's mesmerized by her words. He hangs on to them, waiting, waiting. The windows continue to shake as if a storm pounds at them, threatening to smash them into a million pieces, an unstoppable rain of glass about to happen.

"Listen, my sweet, listen to their songs of sadness, tears on their faces, the new tears of babies... _shhhhh_...don't be scared of the man who approaches them. He can only offer peace and the light of heaven."

Todd's eyes mist over and he watches her lips, so pretty...so pretty as they part and sing to him. He reaches for them and she delicately backs away, eyes open now, getting out from underneath him. He falls back onto his haunches, paralyzed by her power...her endless power.

"Can you see yourself, my lover? Can you see how you tower over the children in their cradles?"

"Yes," he whispers. The vision is clear, vivid. He sees his long, untamed hair, the coat protecting him against that wind on the beach, and the palm trees whipping about. And then, above all, he sees Brendan and Evan in their cradles. The cradles rock back and forth and the precious boys are crying, oh they're crying.

"You want to pick them up, don't you?"

"Yes, I can help them."

"Of course you can, you will help them. You will pick them up." She smiles, grinning at him…

The sounds of the room keep getting louder and louder. Todd covers his ears because they hurt and he can see more now…

"You ARE picking them up, my lover, with your powerful hands. You are so strong. Those hands are closing around their throats now, my lover." Her voice has changed and Todd can see it all so clearly, can see himself jerking the little ones up by their necks like little chickens and they dangle loosely, dangerously.

"No," he groans, gasping at the shortness of breath, "Stop."

"Ohhhh...NOW look who's so tough...my sugary pet...my little lamb."

He tries to look at her, tries to gather his strength except it's like being trapped in tar. His feet can't move, his arms are stiff, tied down. He can only gaze at her, trying so hard to get to her.

"You're killing them, Todd," she continues, "right in front of Téa. Imagine that...your wife, your beautiful wife, is watching you kill her precious children. Do you see now what she's been seeing all along? She had to run from you because she knows what you're capable of. You and I...we fucked in the mausoleum because I ...am NOT afraid of you...because I can cripple you. I _enjoy_ crippling you. I am SO much more than you, you filthy...piece...of...shit."

At that, Todd manages to break loose from his hypnotic daze and he pushes her off the table, shoving her hard to the ground. He scrambles to his feet, intent on doing what he has to do to shut her up, to shut her poisonous mouth, to punish her for hurting Téa because it's obvious now, why Téa ran.

Téa saw him kill her boys, a picture planted in her mind by Roseanne. Then when he got angry at Starr, a physical act of fury… the image of him killing the boys became even more real. He understood now.

A light zips through the room just then, lightning really, and it halts his advance on Roseanne because he knows it's not natural, it's brighter, more electric, the air actually catching and shuddering.

They both freeze, waiting because something is happening…about to happen...

...and then the thunder is there and it's loud in the room, a neverending pounding, the windows, the walls, everything screaming, wailing… the two putting their hands to their ears to soften the noise...

… and then a final blast of thunder explodes all around them, the new windows bursting apart, glass raining down on top of everyone.

They all dive for cover, protecting themselves, the guards, Roseanne, and Todd. They all cower under the tables until the sounds of sprinkling glass slows and stops.

Within seconds, Todd finds himself getting dragged by the legs out from under the table, getting a boot on his back and handcuffed. His face is shoved against the glass bits on the floor, another boot on his head to keep him there. A large guard jerks Roseanne to her feet, hauling her bony butt up with one hand. Roseanne shakes the glass out of her hair, her eyes drawn to the blown-out windows as real rain pours in now, scattering on the wind...right there inside the room.

Roseanne just stares, blinking, as the raindrops spit and spatter her face, getting in her eyes. She sucks her lips in, tasting it...tasting the rain...but something about it isn't right, like...it doesn't belong there. It's not Pennsylvania rain. She doesn't know how she knows that or what Pennsylvania rain even tastes like, really. But she just knows it. There's an insistence to it, too, almost as if the rain is trying to tell her something. Maybe that it's traveled across many, many miles. She licks her lips again and thinks she tastes salt water. The ocean?

She closes her eyes for just a second, shutting out the chaos of the moment to concentrate. She sees miles and miles of open fields, old, antiquated farmhouses...European-looking…

Then she turns her eyes to Todd, who's across the room now. They stare each other down again, then slowly, a knowing smile spreads over Roseanne's face as she blinks the rain out of her eyes.

Todd watches her with a strange look, he too, blinking the rain out of his face.

 _She knows something...goddammit, I KNEW IT...she DOES KNOW, that fuckin' bitch._

Roseanne starts giggling...then laughing, totally out of control as Todd strains against the guards holding him back.

"Oh, baby," she taunts, from across the room, "don't you know? She's with HIM! She's with her kidnapper, my pet! And it'll be a cold day in hell when YOU'LL be able to stop them from loving each other!"

The guards start to drag her out of the room.

"They are as open as sunlight on sand, baby! Bright as blood! He'll be fucking her...RIGHT IN YOUR FACE, ASSHOLE!"

Her voice disappears into the depths of the prison.

"C'mon! Get the fuck up!" someone yells, and Todd is jerked to his feet. The same guard spits, "What the hell do you think this IS?"

"Huh?" Todd asks, confused. Not sure what he's done, what the guards saw or what _he_ saw.

"I told you no touching and there you were, grabbing for her. Idiot. You're lucky that storm came. I dunno WHAT you thought you were going to get away with," he grumbles as he grabs Todd, and they walk out, down the hall.

Todd drops his head down, his fear confirmed... _her kidnapper, Dean Shelton...oh my god, oh my god..._ is all he can think.

* * *

A single pair of headlights swirls along the wet road, as Dean navigates the twists and turns leading him back to the house. He yawns, shaking his head to wake himself up, and looking all around to keep himself from getting hypnotized by the road.

The sky darkens, going from light gray to a darker blueish gray, and he half-laughs at how he has to gauge the grays to determine what time of day it is. Just then, it starts to rain, again, and Dean sighs, disgusted, as he hits the wipers...flip, flop, flip, flop…

 _God, I can't wait to get outta here, can't wait 'til this stupid job is over,_ he thinks, running a hand over his scrubby head-a fleeting thought about shaving it back down-then back to the road, stretching out in front of him.

He suddenly sees Téa's face in his mind, at the horizon line, the end of the road _...home?_

He rolls his eyes at that. _Stupid._ The house is just a way station, a hiding spot for both of them. When the job's done, he'll disappear and Téa would undoubtedly find somewhere _else_ to go whether it was back to that mental-patient husband of hers or someplace else entirely. So it would be stupid of him to even think…

. _..think what? WHAT are you thinkin', genius? That she's gonna run away with YOU?_

He half-laughs again, not believing he's having this conversation with himself again. But he couldn't deny that several times during the day, as he pored over blueprints and schematics, as he immersed himself in the details of the job, that he thought about her. He sighs, glancing around, getting closer to the house now.

Tonight would be the first time they'd have to spend an entire evening in each other's orbit, voluntarily. _Man...talk about weird,_ he thinks, trying to think of things to talk about. Then he shakes his head, answering himself. _Nothing to say._ No...he wouldn't be the one to start chatting away like an idiot. This isn't any kind of 'normal' relationship, anyway...so 'normal' things don't apply. No...best to stay quiet and let her think. That's what she'd come there for, anyway. Not for _him,_ or his conversational skills.

He sighs again, staring back out at the road and then he squints, seeing something up ahead. It looks like somebody walking toward him, but he couldn't see well enough yet. He slows down as he approaches, curious, finding it odd to see _anyone_ taking a walk in this god-forsaken place.

He gets closer...and as the car coasts by, he sees someone bundled up, carrying what looks like two big baskets, or something. He passes them, continuing on down the road for a bit...looking in the rearview mirror.

 _That's weird._

The person starts to disappear into the mushy gray background, blending in. Dean looks back at the road, but is edgy now...bothered…

 _...oh, shit…_

Dean slams on the brakes and throws it in reverse, speeding backwards along the slippery road.

Up ahead, Téa hears the squealing brakes and turns around. She sees the car coming back toward her and starts panicking. _Is it him?_ She doesn't know because she can't remember what kind of car he has. It could be him or it could be some psycho or it could be some nice person just wanting to help. She's so confused now, so uncertain, so afraid…

 _...oh, shit...what do I do?_

She looks down at the boys' seats, weighing heavily on her. She'd only been walking for maybe a half-hour but already, she was cold and tired and now it's raining. The twins are completely covered with blankets, but she knows they have to be freezing, too. Crazy to be out here with them, she knows, but as hour after hour had passed, she became convinced that she'd been stranded. Left to her own devices...left to die...just _...left._

The only thing she could think of to do was to just start walking, find the nearest house and call... _someone_.

"Oh God...please help me," she whispers, as the car comes to a stop in front of her. All she can do now is pray that whoever's inside will help her. She swallows hard, and stares intently at the window, unable to see inside. Then the car door opens…

...and Dean gets out.

Téa's eyes widen and her mouth drops, instantly relieved _and_ infuriated.

Dean stares back, eyes just as wide. "What...what're you doing out here? You NUTS?" he says, reaching for one of the seats, but she recoils, tripping backward with the twins' weight. Dean stares at her, confused, and then tries again. She steps back once more, into the tall weeds beside the road.

"Téa...what's the matter? You're gonna freeze to death...c'mon," he says, trying to help her with the boys yet again. But Téa snatches the seat back, glaring at him.

"Why did you leave me?" She yells.

Dean does a take, haunted by that question, one that she had asked him before. It sends a chill through him, colder than the air. Shaking it off, he suddenly realizes why she's asking it now.

"Ohh...shit," he sighs, putting his hands up in a peaceful gesture. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you where I was going, okay?"

Téa stares at him, unsure, as a soft cry floats up from one of the seats. It's Evan expressing his discomfort. She breathes out hard, sick to her stomach with guilt that she dragged the boys so far in this cold. Her head drops down, and she's working hard to restrain the tears.

"I thought you left me," she says, softly, still looking at the ground. Then she sniffs, lifts her head, and finds the anger easy to bring. "Do you know what I've been through all day? Huh? DO YOU? I have NO idea where the fuck I am! And you go and LEAVE without a word, without a note, NOTHING! I didn't know where you were or if you were ever gonna come back! How could you DO that? What were you thinking?!"

Dean steps back at the fury, surprised at her lashing out. "Téa, I'm...I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I just...I-" he starts, stuttering, then finally shrugging.

She mocks his shrug, incredulous, "You just...what? Figured I'd just KNOW? I'm not a fucking mind-reader!"

Dean's laughs nervously, not able to argue at all. "You're right, Jesus. I screwed up. I should have said something or wrote you a note. I wasn't thinking, period. I'm so damn sorry, okay? Can we just-" He gestures toward the car.

Téa hesitates, downshifting from angry back to scared for a second, considering, debating with herself. _Should I trust him? Do I have a choice?_ Evan's crying gets a little louder now, more insistent, and suddenly, all thoughts turn to the fact that she's endangering her children's lives, and that she's done nothing _but_ endanger them for the last two days, despite all her good intentions… she knows she should make a wise decision right now, one that revolves around her kid...

"No, no," she spits, "Fuck you."

She turns on her heel and starts walking again, boys firmly in her hands. Dean watches her go for a second, stunned, then he quickly reaches into the car and shuts it off, grabbing the keys before chasing after her.

"Hey! What the-Téa, would you STOP?" he yells.

Téa keeps going out of spite, only spite, since she has no clue where she's going or what she's doing. But she tires and puts the boys down. Dean walks around her, cautious, keeping a distance. He gets in front of her and looks at her lowered head, hearing her labored breaths, seeing them in the air.

"Alright," he says, quietly. "What can I do?"

The sound that comes from her seems like a laugh, except it's just her tired, fed-up, laugh. Not a stitch of humor in it. "I made a big mistake in coming here. That's obvious to me now. I can't trust you. I can't trust anybody." Her words feel like they're from far away, someone eles, and she shakes her head, gazing into the endless grey. She realizes how much she sounds like _Todd._

Dean's face crumples with upset, disappointment. "What? Ohh y'know, you gotta stop, okay? Just...STOP." He tries to get her to look at him but she refuses. "Just think about what you're doing, okay? About where you are, RIGHT NOW. You're in the middle of nowhere, in a country you've never been to. It's about forty degrees and it's only gonna get colder. AND... you have two kids with you. Two babies. So excuse ME, but what in the FUCK...are YOU thinking?"

Her jaw sets, changing her face from confused back to enraged, just like that. But Dean holds up a finger, not done yet. "I'm not gonna bullshit around with you, Téa. I know you've been through a lot, but...you're being stupid...and reckless. I mean, look at your kids! They're gonna catch fuckin' pneumonia if you don't get them back inside. And so will you."

Téa's expression actually does change, she is thinking about an unchangeable reality. But she doesn't bend yet.

"Look, you..." he says, with a soft sad laugh, "you have nothing to fear from me, okay? For the millionth time, I wanna help you. But if you still think you can't trust me, then fine. Get in the car, I'll drive you to Heathrow right now, and you can go home. Or wherever you want."

The rain hits the ground around them softly, as if trying to respect the silence between them. Everything seems clearer now, colder, and more real. And she realizes, she knows, he's right. So she nods, giving over the boys and follows him back to the car without another word. He opens the door for her and as she gets in the back with the twins.

He leans in to look at her and Téa tries to ignore him for a moment, busying herself with the boys' hands and faces, trying to warm them up. But she feels his eyes on her as she puts Brendan's little hand to her cheek, kissing it.

"So, where are we goin'?" he asks.

Téa rolls her eyes upward, feeling tears again. Then she looks at Brendan who stares back at her with his father's judging eyes. She shakes her head, an ache inside of her, tap, tapping. But she can't think about it now. _Don't listen to it,_ she tells herself. Bigger things to worry about, smaller things. _Not him ... no ..._ she repeats, over and over, getting lost in her son's eyes, having a hard time imagining how Todd became so… _bad_. He was once a baby just like Brendan.

"Guess I don't have much of a choice."

"You always have a choice."

"Yeah...right."

Dean tips his head slightly, quiet, every so patient. Téa finally turns to him. His expression is one of empathy, understanding. A bare smile playing on his lips. Warmth.

"You're making this a lot more complicated than it has to be," he says.

"Yeah, well. My whole LIFE is pretty damned complicated at the moment and I just...I don't know what the right thing IS."

He takes that in, takes her in, lingering on her brown eyes, hopeless ones, as the rain falls with a gentle patter. Then he shrugs, giving up with a slight shake of his head.

"Fine. Airport it is," he says, starting to shut the door. A million choices rush through Téa's brain at once, spinning madly on a wheel of fortune, too fast to see clearly. A bit of panic. She must make a choice and make it now. Reach out...and stop the wheel.

"Dean."

He stops, looking back in, taken aback at her calling him his name. He knows in that very second that their world has changed.

"Let me know where you're going next time, okay?"

Dean almost smiles, feeling a sudden, almost dizzying rush of relief. He doesn't nod, or say anything, just looks at her.

And Téa finds that she's not uncomfortable with his study of her anymore. Things are different now. It's not kidnapper-to-hostage anymore. It's more like friend-to-friend. She holds his gaze for a second, then turns her attention back to the boys, lifting a fussing Evan out of his seat and cradling him.

Dean watches her for another moment...then nods to himself before shutting the door. They drive the lonely road back to the house.

 **TO BE CONTINUED…..**


	12. Chapter 12

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 1** **2**

 _I_ _don't_ _know. I_ _don't_ _know._ _Don't_ _fuckin'_ _know. I_ _don't_ _know._ _I don't know. Don't fuckin' know..._

Thumping his head against the concrete wall behind him, Todd fights for a semblance of stability. He works for that even breathing, that emotional space where pain whips past him like a breeze on a summer day, smooth, easy, weak, not enough force to rustle leaves or lay down grass or make a man shut stinging eyes against it.

He stops the rhythmic bounce accompanying his _I-don't-know_ mantra and listens carefully for the prison guard, listens for the clang of a laden belt and the iciness of absolute authority over this isolated portion of the Llanview Women's Correctional Facility. He's in a cell, sitting on the floor, back against the wall. He skipped the cot—way too many memories. They threw him in here after the... _visit_... with Roseanne.

False alarm, no guards coming.

He returns to his delicate chore and hears himself groan softly, an ache suddenly coming to life in his gut. Jesus, he wants to hold those boys of his. He wants to watch their every facial expression as they experience life, as they play. Mostly he wishes to revel in their peaceful sleep, stoned from a heated bottle of milk while a long cloudy string stretches lazily from an open mouth, leaving a wet kiss on the blanket that cradles a precious body.

He loves them, he loves their mother.

 _Oh GOD_ _,_ _OH GOD_ _,_ Roseanne's blood-curdling screams resonate in his head again, piercing shrieks about Téa, about how she's going to lie down with that bastard. How did she put it? Oh yeah, _Téa'_ _s gonna be fucking him._ Another agonized groan rolls out of him.

 _O_ _ur babies, Delgado_ _. W_ _hat are you thinking?_

It's gotta be she's lost her mind thanks to people messing with her, hurting her, sending her spiraling out of control straight to Shelton of all people. _Shelton_ who'd taken Starr, who'd been ultimately responsible for all the trauma Téa went through. How did this happen?

How does a woman stand before a man who had hurt her and _love_ him?

Thump, thump, thump.

 _I don't know. I don't know. Don't fuckin' know._

He can't breathe. Wait, who's he talking about? Shelton or _himself?_

"Come on now, relax," he says, aloud but under his breath. "Don't think that way. She's not loving this guy. She's running scared—she's been messed with."

 _Do you hear the babies cry? They sing a melody of tears, a wailing song of desolation and abandonment carried by a jeweled wind_ _while their mother cries out a different song, one of lustful hunger_ _,_ _betraying them and you._

Roseanne again. He knocks back harder, concentrating on the bit of distracting pain, and adjusts his mantra.

 _I_ _don't_ _know that. I_ _don't_ _know THAT._

A jumble of echoing taps near his cell draws his attention and he waits for the approaching guests cautiously.

"He's all yours, Mr. Gannon."

Todd is strangely relieved to see RJ standing there, even though he's as unmoving as the steel bars themselves and stony faced except for a slight movement of his jaw. But then he seems to liven up somewhat, sniffing and turning as the guard yells to someone unseen to open the door. Rain water glistens all over RJ, beading on the fancy wool coat he wears. An image of a demon dangling a child in each of his hands torments Todd suddenly. The hopeless cries are so vivid that he lifts a hand and slams it on his ear. He knows he looks insane but the noise is maddening.

"Thanks for coming," he manages to say at last, "thanks, thanks a lot."

Scrambling to his feet, Todd instinctively looks for his jacket and pats his pockets for his keys, except he doesn't have them because they were taken away along with his wallet, his shoes, and almost every last shred of his dignity. He looks at his silent friend again as RJ spots the bits of glass on the floor next to the bunk.

"Crazy storm blew the windows in. I got all that shit in my hair, scratched me up, too."

RJ drags his eyes from the glass to Todd's socked feet and moves them slowly upwards until he lands on a bloodied chin. He fixes on reddened eyes. Snorts in condescension and shakes his head. The jail cell door finally slides open and Todd ambles out like a whipped dog. They begin a slow exit from a claustrophobic maze of cells.

He mumbles, "I know, you don't have to say it. It was stupid to come here. I get you're mad about that. But I had to talk to her, man. I had to know. I had thoughts about what was going on and I needed to see it through. And I found out some stuff, you know, she confirmed it...Téa IS with that asshole, that…that Shelton! Shelton!"

RJ doesn't answer and Todd gets increasingly frustrated as they walk, pointedly asking, "Doesn't this piss you off? Worry you more?! Are you even listening to me?!" Figuring RJ's mad about Todd seeing Roseanne and screwing it up, he gives up and more or less talks to himself.

"Whatever. I don't know, I figure he must've kidnapped her again. Yeah, must be it… and you know, that WITCH, she's a real voodoo fuckin' witch. She messed Delgado up good, so good that she went with the guy. Made her delusional, you know? I think that's it. I think. I don't know…. awwww...I don't know anything. People are FUCKED! And we're like, on the outside of this!"

"Can it, Manning," the guard grumbles as they leave the cell block, a heavy door slamming behind them.

"I just got a lot on my mind. Sorry."

Todd doesn't notice RJ clench his jaw at his mindless _sorry_ , doesn't see him tightening his fist. They are now standing at a gated desk, a guard stamping some documents as Todd and RJ wait. The man smirks as he slides Todd's belongings through an opening.

"Now be good, ya' hear?"

"Yeah," Todd grumbles, taking his boots and putting them on gruffly, as he hangs on to the counter and fights to balance and shove feet into them. RJ glances at Todd, as if waiting for something. He's almost glaring. After a second or two of intense silence, Todd spits, "Thanks for coming, man. I really hate jail."

RJ looks away. Shakes his head again. Sniffs noisily and folds his arms across his chest.

Todd doesn't want to deal with the RJ-attitude anymore so he just grabs the rest of his things with a huff, illegibly signs the release paperwork, and sets his sights on leaving the damned place. Mustering the last bit of pride he has left, he straightens his shoulders, curses under his breath, and flies past RJ. He's totally unable to sense his friend's simmering temper, again chalking it up to plain old attitude. Doesn't get it.

Once past the gates of the prison, he lets out a heavy breath and has to congratulate himself on achieving a blissful state of numbness about Téa and Shelton. 'Cause he's relatively cool about it. Considering.

Generally.

Then a raindrop of a thought plops onto his shoulder: _if_ in fact it's true. Ohhhhh denial is even better than emotional insulation. He repeats, _it_ _'s_ _not true._ She's not with Dean. That was some kind of bullshit by Roseanne to freak him out, like this whole deal with the mausoleum. Sure. Just a part of his fucked-up imagination.

 _It_ _'s_ _not true._

Wet gravel crushes a couple of feet behind him, RJ catching up, but he keeps walking 'cause he doesn't know what the hell is happening with RJ. He's so quiet. The guy didn't have to come. Todd had left a phone message, pitiful certainly, but RJ came nonetheless. Why? Just to see him humiliated? The fuck is his problem? If he wanted Todd to cool his heels, he could have left him overnight.

He sees his truck at last, RJ's sedan parked next to it at an odd angle. Todd halts, throws his things on the hood of the truck so he can search for his keys. He feels RJ tap his shoulder and turns around, ready to hear the shit he's sure to get.

When he sees RJ head on, RJ sniffs and rumbles, "Don't you have something to say to me?"

"I did! Shit! I already said, _thank you,_ man, what the hell else do you want?"

RJ's eyes narrow at that, zeroing in. The air stills with a kind of cosmic hesitation.

"How about this?"

With a heave, RJ reaches back and slams a closed fist dead center on Todd's left cheek, hurling Todd against the truck before he crumples onto the dirt-covered ground.

RJ snaps, "GET UP! Get up, motherfucker!"

Todd only gets to his hands and knees, weakly. RJ is still plenty mad though, his temper not assuaged by one measly blow.

"Awww, whatsa matter, Manning?! Don't like getting knocked on your ass, UNPREPARED?! Huh?!" He yells, "Come on, bitch! I'm all ready for you, NOW! This is what you wanted back at the penthouse, right? You wanted some, so come on, bro, LET'S GO!"

RJ kicks at Todd, trying to get him to respond, trying to get him on his feet, to fight in a fairer way… except he doesn't get to.

"I said, GET THE FUCK UP, you prick! Let's do this!"

RJ has raised his fists in a mock boxing stance, punching the air once or twice and dancing a couple of steps. His long braids sway as he kicks at Todd more. But his opponent chooses to stay down, gasping for breath. Disgusted and pissed, RJ ceases his movements and finally shakes his head. Open hands take up the hostile ballet, "What's your fuckin' problem, Manning? All I tried to do is help you and your woman and what do I get? A punch in the fuckin' head! The hell is THAT about?! Look, I dunno if you noticed, but *I* am the only friend you got so if THAT'S how you gonna treat me, well, y'know what? You can KISS MY BEAUTIFUL BLACK ASS!"

Todd drops his head, and all that comes out of his mouth is a pent-up, deeply held-back, thoroughly pained sob. All that hurt from days of running on empty, days of battling himself and every other demon in his way, all the hurt over missing Téa and the boys, all of it comes pouring out like last night's bad supper. Todd collapses forward, breaking down over everything. It's all too much for him. The pain can no longer be denied nor hypnotized away.

"Ohhhh hell no. No-no-no, don't EVEN pull that shit with me. Don't EVEN try to make ME feel bad," RJ says, as he walks around him, his anger subsiding a bit as he realizes that Todd really is crying.

"Oh, fuck," he mutters to himself, continuing to pace back and forth, "It was one hit to your face, man. Suck it up! You pissed me off, you had it comin'!"

Todd continues to cry oh-so miserably, saying incomprehensible words.

"Ohhhhh sheeeit… look, I ain't no doctor Phil, man, so shut-up already! Jesus!"

RJ shakes his head and finally leans back against the truck. Waiting for Todd to get it out of his system and letting go of his own pissed-off-ness. After a while, Todd does get under control, sitting against the tire of the truck with his head in his hands. Once upright, he can only stare absently at the horizon, inconsolable.

RJ says in a soft tone, "Shelton with Téa ain't no surprise. You knew that. I warned you."

"My kids, man. My wife. She went through hell…" He chokes this out and then looks at RJ. Pauses before saying, "I'm sorry I hit you."

RJ shrugs slightly in response, unwilling to totally let the insult go.

Todd then adds, "I'm sorry about the spitting thing, too."

RJ squints in disbelief, "You SPIT on me?!"

"Yeah." Although still in the throes of sadness, Todd raises his eyes and displays mild satisfaction at his getting in a return hit.

"Oh you really are a fuckin' prick," RJ snarls, shuddering exaggeratedly and muttering about getting various kinds of diseases.

Todd glances away and the hurt swells inside of him once more. He takes an anguished breath.

RJ slaps his shoulder hard. "Get up," he says, "you look pathetic."

Once on his feet, Todd says, "I'm trying to make sense of it and I can't. I mean I know she was all screwed up, stuff was going on with her. I scared her. I really scared her."

He begins to cry at the memory and covers his face, but he doesn't want to lose himself in this kind of useless pity so he grabs at anger which is always ripe for picking, always ready to be indulged in, like the brightest, reddest, apple off the lowest branch. _E_ _asy._

He storms off, strikes the air furiously and spins around tight to face RJ.

"I don't GET IT! The MOTHERFUCKER kidnapped her! HE KIDNAPPED HER! And she goes to **HIM?!** FUCK! FUCK THAT BITCH!"

He yells a wordless scream, paces more.

"I don't get it either." RJ's comment is more to himself than Todd. "Can't make sense of it myself." He thinks, though, thinks back to his conversation with Téa about her contacts with Shelton while Todd continues to rail nastily against the situation, against Roseanne, against everything and everyone. Background noise.

She'd been morose, distressed. Empty. And definitely worked up over Shelton, protective in a cockeyed manner. She said that if RJ told Todd, Todd would want to kill Shelton and that would ruin everything, that would make their hard-earned life worse. He remembers the fear on her face, but what was she protecting? Her life with Todd? Todd?

Or Shelton himself, directly, specifically.

 _Todd and I_ _,_ _we're like_ _..._ _like a tightrope act. It's a very, very delicate balance and it's a constant struggle for us to keep each other from falling_ _._

And then she ran off with the _other_ guy.

Maybe Todd got too difficult. And Shelton, maybe he's actually _un_ complicated and he had offered a hand into a simpler hell. She was vulnerable, definitely vulnerable.

Taking a deep breath, RJ saunters to a still-ranting Todd and digs at the gravel with the heel of one of his shoes, shoves his hands into his coat pockets. Todd notices him at last and glares with heaving fury, not knowing where to turn at the moment.

"What?!"

RJ's unruffled though and grouses, "Get your shit together, Manning. This isn't about YOU right now, your pride, your WHATEVER."

Todd can't say anything to that...tightens his jaw.

"I don't know the deal with Shelton and Téa, either," RJ says, "But he's still the same bad dude, I'm sure still dangerous, and no matter what, we need to bring her home. And you acting like King Kong 'n shit ain't gonna do it. So enough already."

Todd resists RJ's calm but does swallow a burst of hate wanting to spill out. He stalks a path back and forth, tries to reach that state of numbness again, but it's impossible now.

RJ then quietly adds, "I might have a lead. You get some sleep and we'll work on this, after. You got me?"

After a few moments, Todd finally, reluctantly, nods and gets into the truck. The two men agree to meet that night at RJ's place. So he follows RJ out of the parking lot and hits the road, heading to see Starr. Yeah, he has some making up to do. He needs love, damn it, needs to feel like he's human again as opposed to something else.

Something unnamable.

* * *

The rain has stopped and the total, unique silence of the country seeps into the tiny house. The crackling of the fireplaces going are about all Téa can hear now, as she sits by the crib in the bedroom, watching the boys falling fast asleep, their bodies warm again, their tummies full. Neither Brendan nor Evan seem too affected by their time out in the rainy cold.

 _L_ _ucky for me,_ she thinks, with a shake of her head. She chastises herself again, with an angry sigh, horrified at how incredibly stupid she could be sometimes. She watches them for a while longer, making sure they're settled. True, she's still new at the mother-thing, but it hadn't taken long for her to understand the babies' body language. She could tell if they weren't sleeping well, if they were feeling some gas pain or needed a change and were about to start fussing. The boys are happy though, sleeping, lying side by side in their fleece sleepers, peaceful as can be.

She shakes her head again, at their resilience, especially considering that they'd been preemies, forced out of her early due to the trauma she suffered - that _they_ suffered as a result. Incredible. It really was. By all rights, these kids should have died. But thanks to medical advancements and Todd and RJ...they're all still here.

 _Todd_ _._

She closes her eyes, feeling awful again, feeling his absence in the pit of her stomach. Knowing he can't possibly be in a good place right now. They'd be worried for her and the boys, scared, not knowing where they are, who they're with, or what happened to them…

… or even why they'd gone.

Téa rubs her closed eyes roughly, guilt weighing heavy. Well, shit...he _should_ know...he must. He has to. I'm sure he's probably on a rampage, tearing the place apart right now. In the dark behind her hands and closed eyelids, she hopes that RJ is doing what she thinks he's doing...looking after Todd even if he hates doing it. RJ would have to be the rock now, the source of common sense and rationality for Todd who was most likely out of his mind with all kinds of rage right now.

She finds herself thankful that Blair had gotten Starr out of there, a thought she never imagined she'd _ever_ have. It fills her with equal parts relief for Starr and sadness for Todd, leaving her lost in the middle somewhere. She lets the thought leave her with a heavy, heavy sigh, and she stands up finally, looking down at the boys one more time before leaving the room. She closes the door partway, as she steps into the living room, leaving it open enough to hear them if they start fussing.

When she turns around, she sees a surprisingly cozy-looking living room, lit by the fire's warm, yellow-orange glow. Dean sits on the floor by the hearth, legs tucked under him, staring into the bluish glow of the laptop on the floor in front of him. He doesn't seem to hear or notice her at all, and she takes the opportunity to study him a little...watching him reading something...e-mail, maybe...occasionally typing. His other hand supports his head, elbow on his knee.

No particular thoughts go through her mind, maybe because she's too confused to think much of anything. There's only a vibe, a general sense of things being out of whack. Somehow, the world's spinning off-axis now, and the planets are slipping out of alignment, all because of her, because of her decision to come here, to this place with this person. She rewinds her memory, back to that day...that horrible day.

And she wonders. _..why?_

If all she wanted to do was get some space between herself and Todd, she could have...and _should_ have...gone somewhere _else._ The very fact that she'd accepted Dean's offer makes her think twice about her own sanity.

 _Why did I think this was a good idea again? Did I ever? What the hell WAS I thinking?_ She sighs, shaking her head. _Stop it,_ _Téa_ _. What's done is done. You can't change it now._ _Just_ _have to deal with it. Besides, he promised_ _that_ _...you have nothing to fear from him. Not anymore. He promised. So just...clear your mind._

Dean hears her sigh, and looks up. He sort-of nods, acknowledging her without being too friendly. Téa nods back, with a thin, half-smile, as she strolls into the kitchen area. Not knowing what else to do, she opens the fridge, pretending to be engrossed by the few things in it. She knows she can't stay here long, so she grabs the can of coffee and shuts the door, shaking off the chill. Then she goes about the business of making coffee without looking at him.

Dean watches her for a few seconds, scratching his nose absentmindedly, before clearing his throat. "Um..."

Téa looks up, freezing in her tracks, the scooper in her hand. Dean tips his head to the side, gesturing for her to look behind her. Téa turns around...and sees the coffeemaker, already on and the pot, half-full.

"Oh," she says quietly, then looks back at him. She shrugs her shoulders, before meekly putting the coffee away. While facing the fridge again, she rolls her eyes at her boneheaded-ness. Then she wonders what else she could possibly do to avoid interaction. She settles for getting some food together for herself, and grabs the block of cheese sitting there.

Dean lingers on her, knowing she's trying to avoid him. He gets it. He rubs his tired eyes and, with one last glance at his e-mail, he logs off and shuts the laptop down.

Téa hears him moving about and looks up, watching him put the computer in a leather bag, then straightening up, stretching. He tilts his head back and forth, rubs the back of his neck...then grabs a mug off of the stone hearth. He looks at Téa, as if to ask permission to approach. Téa eyes him, awkwardly, falling back on that thin-lipped, half-smile as communication...then she goes back to slicing cheese and bread.

She hears him next to her, the clinks and clunks of the coffee pot being moved. She tries her best to keep her eyes down, but then suddenly hears the sound of a cup hitting the counter right by her.

Slowly, her eyes move, across...then up. She sees a full mug of coffee, sitting there in front of her… and Dean walking back toward the fireplace, carrying his own cup, sipping out of it. He sits down in the chair next to the fire, settling back in it...without a word.

For a moment, Téa doesn't quite know what to do. Even after Dean's rescue of her from her long walk in the cold, she still second-guesses every look, every move, and every gesture, no matter how sincere or innocent. Fighting her suspicions is useless. So why get worked up over it?

She looks at the coffee...black. Not how she takes it. So she turns back to the fridge, and grabs the milk, pours a good amount in. Then she puts it back, and grabs the plate of filler food...and with a 'get ready' sigh, she walks into the living room.

She puts the cup and plate down on the coffee table...and Dean looks over as she sits down, in the middle of the couch, folding her legs underneath her. She takes a piece of crusty bread, puts two pieces of cheese on it, and takes a big bite. At that moment, her eyes meet his...and her chewing slows down, becoming more self-conscious. She swallows, a little too soon, and the food goes down in a big lump.

Dean watches her make several uncomfortable expressions as she tries to get it to go all the way down. Finally...a hard, audible gulp.

"Ohhh…," she says, immediately reaching for the coffee.

Leaning on his elbow, hand over his mouth, Dean suppresses a grin and an urge to crack up, sniffling instead, as he looks back into the fire.

Téa takes a few sips from her cup to wash down the food, then puts it down. She settles back into the cushions and she can't help but close her eyes.

Several minutes pass like this. Not a word, just the crackle-pops of the fire. Dean looks back over at her after another moment...seeing her closed eyes, and her chest, rising and falling slowly. He's pretty tired too, so he gets up, quietly moving to the kitchen to place his cup in the sink. Then he watches the back of the couch for a moment, waiting to see if she moves. But she doesn't. Dean rubs the back of his neck, realizing that Téa has taken up residence on his bed...and that, most likely, she's fallen asleep. He tries to figure out where he should crash now. His eyes move toward the bedroom, seeing the open door. He peeks in at the sleeping boys in the crib by the fire. He looks at the bed, thinking maybe he should just sleep there...but after a second, he thinks better of it, and ducks out. _Christ, I don't need her freaking out on me again,_ he thinks, as he moves back to the couch with purpose, kneeling down by Téa who's now pretty well on her way to a sound sleep.

"Téa." No answer. "Téa...wake up," he says, a bit louder...but still, nothing. He reaches out...fingertips hovering over her, not sure where or how to touch her to wake her up. Finally, he goes for her shoulder...a pretty neutral spot. And Téa's eyes fly open when he shakes her awake. To his dismay, she jumps a little, looking at him with wide, frightened eyes. Dean quickly takes his hand away, holding it up to her peacefully.

"Whoa, hey...everything's cool...just wanted to wake you up. You're falling asleep out here."

Téa narrows her eyes as she roves the room, calming down. Sighing harshly, she stretches, glancing back at him, as if she were going to say something...and Dean waits for it, but then she looks away again. Dean lingers on her for a second, then gets up.

"Listen, we agreed...couch is MINE. You got a whole bed in the other room, so go use it, for god's sake."

Téa shoots him a dirty look, then realizes he's teasing. Her glare fades, and she looks back toward the fire, shaking her head. Then...despite herself, she actually starts to laugh, quietly. She tries to hold it in, as she gets up, but it still leaks out.

The two of them stand, facing each other, only a foot or so apart. She looks up at him with a gentler look in her eyes, unable to suppress her grin. Dean grins back at her, then makes a shooing gesture at her with his hands. Téa blinks at him, slowly, with tired eyes...then, without a word, she turns and walks away, into the bedroom.

# # # #

The crying of a baby wakes her up some time later. And she opens her eyes, with difficulty. She rises slowly, still half-asleep as she pushes the covers off and gets up, shuffling over to the crib. She rubs her eyes to clear them before picking up the noisy one...Brendan, this time.

"Shhhhh...hey...shhh...I gotcha," she whispers, as she lifts him up and out, holding him high for a second to look at him. He calms down a bit, stopping his crying to look down at her. She can't help but smile back at her beautiful boy, and she never tires of the feeling it gives her...a unique sort of warmth and joy, a kind she'd never experienced with anything else in her life. She thinks back to a time when all she was ever concerned about was herself...and it seems so much farther away than it really is. She never paid much attention to children, and they never paid any to her...until she met Starr. She was the first child to grab her attention and hold it for any length of time...and the first to make her think that maybe, just maybe...she might want one of her own someday.

She lowers Brendan down, putting him on her hip as she looks down at Evan, checking on him. He seems fine, still snoozing away, undisturbed by his brother's carrying on. Téa grins at him, reaching in to touch his hand. Instinctively, Evan's tiny fingers wrap around her finger, and she smiles again.

But the smile fades, as she thinks back to Starr...wondering how she's holding up. And of course, thinking of Starr leads her right down the road to thoughts of Todd. That ache again...that emptiness...how much she misses him. She bites her lip, wishing she could make this all go away, change it back to how it was. As Evan grips her finger, she remembers that morning when the two of them sat on the floor with the babies...when Brendan held Todd's finger tight, like Evan was holding hers now. They were so happy that day. All of them...the kids were happy, she'd been happy...and so was Todd.

 _Why couldn't we have stayed like that? Why is this all happening...I don't get it_ _._

That whole day had been great...until the sun went down. Darkness returned and so did her nightmares.

With a sorrowful stab, she realizes that this was the first time she'd been able to sleep without a bad dream scaring her awake. And though that should make her feel better, it doesn't because she's not home. She's not with Todd...and she wonders _,_ _how long am_ _I going to be away from home_ _?_

She starts questioning herself again, as to what right she had to take his kids away from him...and why in the hell she'd chosen to come _here,_ of all places.

Questions lead to more questions, harder ones...things she just can't get her mind around at the moment, so...she quits the self-interrogation. She lets go of Evan, watching him stir, then settle back down with a big sigh. She smiles one more time, as she grabs one of the pacifiers and walks away with Brendan, carrying him back to the bed with her. She lays him down, checking his diaper...still dry. Must be hungry, she thinks, offering him the pacifier, which he takes immediately. She grabs a blanket off the bed and wraps it around herself.

"Yep...that's what I thought. C'mon...let's go," she tells him, picking him back up and carrying him out of the room. Brendan starts making noise again when they enter the living room; possibly because of the drop in temperature...it's colder, with the fire dying down. Téa shushes him, trying to cover both of them with the blanket as she walks into the kitchen.

"Shhhh...hey...c'mon now. Shhh," she whispers, bouncing him gently, but Brendan isn't having any of it. Téa glances at the couch...and as if he could see her looking, a voice suddenly floats up from it.

"You guys okay?" Dean asks, as he stands up, tiredly.

Téa does a slight take, surprised he's up...then looks back at her fussy baby. "Uh...yeah...he's just hungry...and cold, I think."

"Mmmm," he replies, stretching...looking like he probably _had been_ sleeping, before she walked in.

"Sorry...didn't mean to wake you."

He shrugs. "Wasn't really sleeping," he replies, with a yawn. "More like...napping."

He looks at his watch, then shakes his head to wake himself up. Téa watches him for a second, as he puts a few more logs on the fire, fanning the low flame to get it going again...before Brendan's crying pulls her attention back. She looks around, realizing that she has to let the blanket go and put the baby down in order to do what she has to do. "Ohhh...shhh...keep your pants on, kiddo...I'm workin' on it," she says, getting somewhat annoyed. When she looks up, Dean is in front of her, hands out.

"Here...I got him," he says, wagging his eyebrows to encourage a response. Téa hesitates but Brendan is really crying now. So she relents and hands him off. Dean cradles the baby as Téa takes the blanket and wraps it around them both. They catch each other's glances while in such close proximity...but Téa just sniffs, wrapping them up tight.

"Are your hands clean?" she asks.

A mix of slight offense and bewilderment flashes on his face. "What?"

"Your hands...are they clean?"

"Uh...yeah...why?"

"He's not taking the pacifier anymore...try putting the tip of your little finger in his mouth. That works sometimes," she says, demonstrating...putting her pinkie to her bottom lip.

"Oh...OH…," he replies, getting it finally. He carefully touches his fingertip to the baby's mouth, and oddly enough, it seems to work. Brendan quiets down and starts sucking on his finger, looking up at him with wide eyes. Dean makes a surprised face at him, then at Téa.

"Wow...that's...interesting. And feels WEIRD."

A bit of amusement shows on Téa at that, then she kisses the baby's head. She goes about the job of cooking up the formula, as Dean stands there playing the human bottle. Téa finally looks back at him after another moment, rinsing out a plastic bottle. "Um...you should take him over to the fireplace," she says. "It's warmer."

"Oh, right," Dean agrees, nodding. "Got it."

She watches him walk with the baby, stopping in front of the fireplace, standing in the warmest spot. Everything settles down in the room again, leaving that cozy, crackle-pop quiet. Téa gets the bottle done and ready in a matter of minutes it seems and before she even knows it, she's testing formula on her hand, making sure it's not too hot. She walks over to Dean, still standing there with his back to her, instinctively bouncing with the baby.

"Done," she says. "I'll take him."

Dean turns around and again, she finds herself somewhat discomfited by the picture in front of her. It wasn't that long ago that this same man, who is now comforting her child, had kidnapped and threatened another child. But as much as she knows it, and as wrong as the picture seems to be...for some reason, it just doesn't worry her like it probably _should._ And that's the strangest part, the fact that she trusts him, but doesn't really know why, or whether it's wise to.

She takes a deep breath as he carefully hands Brendan back over to her. The baby fusses, not wanting to leave his comfy spot in Dean's arms; but Tea shushes him again, as she carries him to the couch and sits down with him. Dean looks on, as she tests the bottle again, making sure...then, propping her laden arm up on the arm of the couch, she settles in and tips the bottle down to him. Brendan grabs for the bottle, little hands flailing about as he starts to drink, making sloppy, slurpy noises.

"Whoa, slow down there, buddy," she whispers to him. Dean takes the blanket off and without a thought, steps over and gestures for her to lean forward. She does, and he drapes it back around her shoulders, covering them both up again.

He pulls the chair up, closer to the fire, and settles back in it. He pulls the baggy, zip sweatshirt he's wearing tight around him, folding his arms, shivering off a chill. Silence again...and the occasional slurp from little Brendan, as he guzzles down his breakfast. Téa smiles at her boy, then lets her head drop back a bit, resting against the cushions. Her eyes are drawn back to Dean, sitting there, staring into the fire.

"You have any kids?"

The question seems to come out of thin air and Téa instantly bites down on her lip, to stop any other words that might come out of her mouth without her knowledge.

Dean looks over at her, his brow crinkled. "God, no. What made you ask that?"

Téa blinks rapidly, still reeling from asking the question in the first place. _Why DID I ask that?_ She clears her throat, looking back down at Brendan. "Uh...just wondering. You seem to, uh...have the bounce down pretty well."

He half-laughs, restrained. "The bounce?"

She looks back up at him, as she takes the bottle away from the baby. "Yeah," she says, dropping the blanket back to put him on her shoulder. "Y'know...that little bounce people do when they're trying to comfort a baby."

His brow knits tighter...then releases, wagging a bit. "Hmmm...was I doing that? I didn't notice."

She nods, rubbing and patting the baby's back to get a burp. Dean laughs again, shaking his head as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Okay… but...how does that translate to 'do I have any kids'?"

 _Buuuurp._ Never able to keep from cracking up, Téa does exactly that, at Brendan's timely response. Dean immediately breaks up too, as she cradles Brendan again, settling in for the other half of the bottle.

"Uh.. it doesn't, overtly. Just noticed a natural move and…" She pauses. Adds quietly, "I don't know where that came from. Just curious, I guess."

Dean studies her for a second, then he nods, looking back at the fire, his eyes drawn in by the bluish color at its base.

"Can't imagine ANY woman wanting to have MY kids," he suddenly says, in a hushed tone.

Téa looks at him, realizing he's not even saying it to her, so much, as just thinking out loud. She studies him while he's looking away, not sure how to or whether to answer that. But all of a sudden, it's as if the air has changed between them, opened up.

"Can I ask you something?"

He looks back at her, eyes steady, ready for anything. She glances at Brendan, checking him, then wets her dry lips.

"How did you...how did you get involved in kidnapping Starr?"

Dean's chin lifts a bit at that, not having heard _that_ name in a while, then takes a deep breath.

"Why do you wanna talk about _that_?" he asks, seeming annoyed, the tail end of his question sharp.

She glances at Brendan again. Then she hardens. "Because I have a right to know. Because you helping me... hasn't redeemed you."

Dean stares back at her, knowing she misunderstood his reluctance to talk about it but feeling rightfully slapped. He covers his eyes a moment before rubbing his face roughly. He decides to attempt an answer but the fact is, there is no way to not sound like the garbage he knows he is.

"You wanna know how I got involved. Well, I met that stupid dirty cop...what's-his-face...through a mutual friend. Very standard, very basic setup...he needed some experienced help to snatch the kid."

Téa takes that in, not missing his emotionless 'snatch the kid' remark. She nods, "Go on."

"Go on...what? That's all there was to it. I was supposed to grab her and hold her until he told me otherwise."

"How long have you been doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Oh I don't know… accounting? What do you think?! Kidnapping kids! Basic setup sounds pretty routine."

"I don't kidnap kids! That's not what I meant! I'm a… I dunno… I been in a lot of _other_ games a long fuckin' time, how 'bout that?" he fires back, as if he had any ground to stand on.

Téa flicks her tongue against her teeth for a second. Then lifts an eyebrow, before focusing on Brendan. She takes the mostly finished bottle from him, wipes his mouth, and puts him back on her shoulder.

"What was he paying you?"

"Not enough," is all he can say, as he shakes his head, looking away.

Téa keeps her eyes on him, as she rubs and pats Brendan's back.

"That why you came after me?"

Dean shuts his eyes for a second, fighting an urge to get snotty with her because he has no right to but it's all he has. He feels the fire warming his face and gets up, pacing.

"Yeah...that's why I came after you. That cop wasn't about to let me keep my fee… so I was pretty much right back where I started, y'know?" he says, trying to stay calm.

Brendan lets out a quiet but substantial burp just then, and Téa brings him off her shoulder. She straightens her legs and lays him down on them, holding his hands. He kicks at her happily. Téa gives him a half-smile, still aware of Dean pacing across from her.

"I guess five mil woulda covered you pretty well," she says, referring to the ransom amount.

Back in the kitchen, Dean laughs bitterly, aware of the much-deserved scrutiny. Aware of the impossibility he can ever really compensate her for what he did.

"Okay," he asks, "is there something in PARTICULAR you want me to say here, Tea? 'Cause I'm thinkin' no answer I give us gonna work."

Téa laughs too, a harsh humorless laugh.

"I want to understand."

"Understand what? Me?" he asks, leaning against the counter.

She stared into Brendan's eyes...green-blue-brown...all colors, and none, just like Todd's. She has to shut her eyes then, feeling tears coming, angry, frustrated, confused tears. At everything. The kidnapping, her trust of this guy, her fear of Todd, her missing Todd, her guilt and righteousness all rolled into one.

But she says nothing more.

Dean waits for a moment, then walks back to the couch. He sits on the edge of the hearth, knees up, elbows hooked around them...looking at her with the baby in her lap.

"Look, there's really nothing else to understand. I've been committing felonies for money since…," he stops, offering a pathetic laugh as he thinks back. "...since...I was a teenager. It's really about all I know how to do. Probably the total opposite of you."

Téa doesn't say anything...she just sniffles, still mesmerized by Todd's eyes...Brendan's eyes. After another moment, she looks up at him, her own eyes glossy. Dean has to glance away for a second, rocking back and forth a bit, uncomfortably _...committing felonies for money_ _._

Téa stares at him, remembering way back to the day Todd offered _her_ five million dollars to marry him...five million, to ally _her_ self with a known felon, to get Starr back, to fake a marriage. It's not the same as what Dean did, not by a long shot, and yet, it wasn't ethical what she'd done. It was for the purpose of defrauding a court. In all honesty, she could have been disbarred. Worse. She cleared her throat, refusing to equate her action with his.

"So it doesn't...BOTHER you...to kidnap a child?"

Dean is fighting a battle he can't win. He shrugs. "It was a JOB. That's all...and NOTHING about it bothered me until I found out it was so fucked up, personal. I mean, that idiot shoulda known better."

"You didn't know what John Sykes was doing?"

He shrugs again. "How COULD I? I mean, he wasn't telling me anything. But he seemed like he knew what he was doing...and besides, he was a cop, so I didn't question it. I don't get paid to question things."

Téa takes that in, staring around him...through him. Then she shakes her head gently, as another train of thought passes. "Starr doesn't talk about you...or about anything that happened. It's like...she doesn't remember it."

A relieved smile crosses his face then fades. "Well...that's probably best."

Téa nods, glancing at Brendan, just lying there, happy as can be.

"Did you connect with her at all...or did you just...keep her in another room or something?"

"I'm not supposed to 'connect.'"

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you DIDN'T. I mean...WE'RE sitting here talking, aren't we? So..." she starts, fumbling for the right words. "...how do you do this? How can you treat someone so kindly one minute, and then turn around and stuff them in a trunk? I mean, how do you rationalize all this?"

Dean swallows visibly, eyes downcast, hands gripping the hearth. He stands because it's hot.

Téa waits, watching him fidget; and after another moment, with a knowing look, he shakes a finger at her. He has an answer.

"I DON'T," is all he says...then he walks away from her, back into the kitchen.

Téa stares at the spot where he sat, beginning to see the edges of his character and now beginning to consider that he probably doesn't understand _himself_. He probably can't articulate why he's coming to her rescue, why he connected to her when she was his captive, a whole life of committing crimes without thought, without justification, just... did them.

She hears him futzing around behind her, probably making more coffee...an obvious signal to cease her line of questioning. Because, of course, he doesn't have any answers that can really satisfy her.

Suddenly, the sound of a chirping cell phone rings out, cutting the silence. Téa looks all around, wondering where it's coming from...and who the hell would be calling at this ungodly hour. Dean comes back in from the kitchen, digging in his weathered, leather bag, and fishes the phone out. He glances at Téa as he flips the tiny phone open, walking away from her again.

"Yeah."

She listens, being her usual, nosy self but all she hears are 'uh-huh's', 'mmm-hmm's', 'yeah's' and 'no's.'

Then she looks up, seeing Dean back over at the chair, grabbing his coat off the floor.

"Hang on a sec," he tells whoever it is, then he throws the coat on and goes outside to finish his conversation. Téa watches him, covering Brendan with the blanket as a blast of freezing air hits them.

Then the door shuts...and she stares at it for a moment, wanting to see through it...

...and wondering, suddenly...what she's gotten herself into now.

TO BE CONTINUED…..


	13. Chapter 13

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 1** **3**

RJ pulls up to the curb and shuts off the car, taking a moment to just breathe in and out a few times. _God, what a fuckin' day,_ he thinks as he flexes his right hand, still a little sore from punching Todd upside the head...from slapping some sense into him. RJ inhales and exhales a few more times, deep, cleansing breaths. Then he sniffs, grabbing his phone and getting out of the car.

As he adjusts his jacket, he looks the area up and down, more out of habit than anything else. It wasn't like this kid lived in a high-crime neighborhood...but still...one could never be too careful. He sighs, taking long, cool strides around to the back door of a lovely, upper middle class house.

 _Do I knock?_ he wonders, not knowing if his hired geek's parents are home. He debates for a few seconds, then raises a hand to knock...when the door suddenly opens. RJ drops his raised fist and looks at the kid. Tall, skinny, young, and _very_ white, but wearing super-baggy jeans and a Lakers jersey over his white t-shirt.

The kid raises his hand up, as if for a friendly shake. "S'up, fool?" he says, with a dorky smile that fades when RJ just glares at him. The kid immediately drops his arm. "Sorry," he says, meekly. A few awkward seconds pass…

… then RJ snaps, "You called?"

"Yeah...c'mon in," he replies, stepping aside. RJ cocks an eyebrow and the kid laughs. "Don't worry, man. Nobody's here but me."

"For how long."

"My folks are in fuckin' Tahiti, man. Won't be back for three glorious weeks."

RJ makes an mock-impressed 'oh' with his lips, then steps in. He looks around at the tidy kitchen as the kid shuts the door.

"Want a beer or somethin'?"

RJ gives him an exasperated look. "This ain't a social call, son." He gestures to get on with it.

The kid nods, then leads him down to the basement. The place changes instantly from a sunlight-blown, upper-crusty decor to a typical hacker cave, lit only by the glow of two huge flat-screen monitors. RJ takes in the sheer amount of equipment this kid has to play with, boxy contraptions piled on top of one another, connected by miles of cable.

The kid sits down in the middle of it all, swinging around in his cushy chair to face the screen. "Right...lemme pull this up," he says, more official and confident, now that he's back in _his_ domain.

RJ watches as various windows pop up on the screen. Then suddenly, audio blasts from the speakers…

Téa's voice.

 _"They're fine_ _—_ _they're both fine and they're both actually sleeping at the same time."_

RJ softens at that... has to. Téa has the most comforting voice when she's trying to be assuring. It's sweet, gentle. It occurs to him how long it's been since he's heard her voice, seen her face, and he feels a sudden pang of loss at that, noticing her absence, as he watches the waveform on the screen, drawing her every word.

 _"And I couldn't be happier,"_ Dean's voice replies. RJ's face darkens at that. He hears Téa huff and can almost picture her big eyes widen, aghast.

The audio stops just then, and the kid turns to look at RJ. "Okay, so...I worked the shit outta this thing. Pretty noisy, typical city stuff...he's definitely on a pay phone."

RJ rolls his eyes at that. "Well, I figured THAT out for myself. You mean to tell me you dragged me all the way over here for THAT?"

The kid does a slight take. "Noooo," he says, as if to say 'duh.' "God...how lame do you think I am?"

"You don't really want me to answer that, do you?"

The kid cracks up… then, with a smug grin, he hits a few more keys and clicks his mouse a few more times. "Just listen," he says, as he starts the audio again, louder and noisier this time.

RJ hears the background much clearer now, and he nods in approval as he starts to imagine the place in his head. "Yeah, that's more like it," he whispers, "...tell me where you are, man."

 _"Y'know...the police are looking for you_ _—_ _this phone might be tapped."_

 _"Eh, let 'em...it's not like they're gonna find me anyhow."_

A pause...RJ and the kid both listen closely, as the background noises fly by...traffic...footsteps...and other voices.

The kid keeps clicking and typing, manipulating the audio to raise the background volume even more. "Hear those voices?"

"Yeah," RJ says, furrowing his brow, hearing people talk as they passed Shelton by.

 _"What do you want?"_ Téa's voice whispers.

 _"I don't know. Just to hear that you're okay, I guess."_

Another pause...more miscellaneous voices, clearer, more boisterous. RJ's eyes get really wide with recognition ..and he looks at the kid who grins from ear to ear as he stops the audio again.

"My guess is England. London, probably."

"You sure?" RJ asks, though in his gut, it already feels right.

The kid nods. "I'd bet money on it. I spent a year over there with my folks. I could make out the accent on the other people earlier on, but it wasn't as clear. THAT definitely was, though. Those were ENGLISH babes walking by, my dude."

RJ grins at that, nodding. "Alright," he says, taking an envelope out of his jacket and handing it to him.

The kid opens it and flips through the bills with that dorky smile. "Sweet. Always a pleasure, Mr. Gannon, sir," he replies, holding out his hand again. RJ looks at him with his usual heavy judgment, but shakes his hand anyway.

"Don't suppose you could narrow it down to a specific PART of London, could ya?"

"Mmmm...no, I don't think so...that's really the best I could get out of it. The rest is just the same mushy shit."

RJ nods again, a little disappointed...but relieved at the same time. _At least we have SOMETHING to go on now_ _…_

"Alright. Thanks, man...I'll let myself out."

The kid salutes him as he walks away, back up the stairs and out the kitchen door.

RJ sprints back to his car, with a new energy, new hope, and new determination.

 _Look out, dog...here we come._

* * *

He waits outside Dorian's mansion for a long time, watching the glimmering windows reflect the late afternoon sun. Gold, opulent. Starr's room should be positively brilliant with rich light ...perfect for her kind of blessedness, for her kind of purity.

Todd glances over at the bottle of Jack Daniels leaning cockeyed on the passenger seat and reflecting an altogether different kind of light. No, he hasn't had any, not yet at least. After his brawl with RJ and the subsequent falling-apart thing, he went back to the wrecked penthouse to _shower, shampoo and shine_. Other than the shiner on his face, he thinks he looks relatively decent. He flips the rearview mirror to get another gander at himself, to reconsider, and studies tired eyes, the way his mouth turns downwards. An inherent sadness brushes his features that even he sees. The old scar on his cheek seems redder than usual and he knows he can't pass for twenty-five anymore. He's not even sure someone will buy that he's thirty.

He smacks the mirror away and, with an indignant snort, sits back on the seat again. How in God's name is he ever going to make up to Starr for what he did to her? Thanks to him, thanks to his fucked-up nature, he handed Starr a memory that will never go away, that will be forever branded on her view of the world. He knows those kinds of memories. They stick to the backs of your eyes because they're unique, out of the ordinary. Like his fourteenth birthday where every detail got chiseled into Todd's memory because it was gloriously, hideously _... unique._ And in Starr's case, Todd's mistake ends up being a cruel, ironic joke on the non-routinely abused child. Had he made it habit to mistreat her, the other day wouldn't have been such a big deal.

 _Maybe I've been too good to her, maybe she needs to learn a sense of perspective, relativity. What happened was nothing ... relatively speaking._

He shudders at the thought that has raced through him. _Jesus, where the hell did THAT come from?_ He looks in the mirror again and forces himself to see the abused child there in his eyes, the routinely abused child. He knows his logic is faulty. Starr doesn't have this look on her face, he should be thankful for his mistake being out of the ordinary. That's right, _he's_ the one who has to put things into perspective. Not Starr ...

"You just going to sit there, Todd, or are you going to be a man and face me?"

Blair's chilled voice cuts through the air, stunning him because he hadn't heard her approach and hadn't expected this much hatred. It's thick, palpable, blood-like liquid dripping off the edges of her words. The truth is, he'd been so focused on Starr that he never thought about Starr's mother or her reaction. The coldness persists as she says, "No surprise to me that you prefer to hide like the rat that you are."

Immediately, naturally, he's on the defensive and his instinct is to throw back her insults. He wants to snarl, _"Fuck you, you fuckin' skanky-ass bitch."_ He holds his tongue though, watching her eyes graze his lips which are in the process of forming an 'f' and then she hisses, "That is your plan, isn't it, buddy-boy? To hide?"

Todd rubs his head against the headrest tightly, exhibiting a twitch of facial muscles in clear agitation, breathing in deeply to quell his rising temper. He turns yet further and eyes the scotch, which Blair notices.

"Ohhhh...I get it," she says, "You're going to watch us all night and get drunker and drunker, feelin' sorry for yourself because you've finally made the jump—turned yourself into Peter Manning. And then ... when you're good and wasted, you'll stumble out of the truck and call for your baby girl, crying over how you chased away your wife and boys, how you've abused your precious daughter, crying because you're so alone and so pitiful ... you'll call out until Starr has to come and get you so you won't get arrested for disturbing the peace. Isn't that how most drunks behave?" She pauses, suddenly seeing his blackened eye, and then snips with a sharp laugh, "Oh look, you've gotten into a fight, too. How nice, PETER."

It takes all he's worth to not get out of the truck, grab Blair by the hair and fuckin' teach her to be gentle with him, to just give him a kind fuckin' word instead of attacking him. Not surprisingly though, like with RJ, he finds himself on the verge of tears instead and he can only look downward. His eyes sting and he inhales deeply. Finally he says, "I want to apologize to her."

"You been drinkin'?"

"No."

Blair leans in and sniffs the air around him and he blows in her face to push her away...and to prove he's telling the truth. She wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand and puts her head up in defiance. "What's going on with you?" she asks in a hard accusing tone. "Starr told me everything, how you grabbed her, how you yelled at her. She said something about 'rape' and papers and staying out of your things? She was crying so hard...I've never seen her crying like that before. Do you hear me? She has never acted like that!"

Blair's face softens though after the slight outburst and Todd sees some effort on her part at understanding ...she's really trying. Except it doesn't come natural to her. Granted, it hadn't been coming natural to Téa either, lately. Not towards him. Shrugging slightly, he says, "I guess I'm just a bastard," and Blair lets out a tight, fuming breath.

"Oh, that is SUCH a fuckin' cop-out… so chickenshit."

"Screw you," he snaps.

"HEY! You don't come clean with me, you don't see Starr. Get it?"

"Please… Blair…" He looks at her, trying to use his self-pity with her to get into that house and she narrows her eyes with obvious distrust. He then says, "Just let me in the house. Don't play games with me...just… no fuckin' games."

And that did it. Her face lights up with fury again and without warning she pokes angrily at him through the window, "NO GAMES? You don't want me to play games?" She pokes hard at his shoulder and towards his chest, poking at him, grunting an, "I'll show you games," over and over and he puts up his arm, backing away from her ... because she's giving him reason to hurt back.

"YOU HAVE SOME NERVE, MANNING!" she finally screams, "You hurt STARR! **STARR!** You can take out all that crap in your black soul on anyone OTHER than her, got me?! **YOU IDIOT!** YOU SELFISH IDIOT! YOU HURT OUR LITTLE GIRL! YOU HURT HER!"

He finally throws open the car door and steps out, intending to show a little gruff to get her to cool it, except she lunges at him, swinging at him, "YOU STUPID, STUPID BASTARD!"

He grabs her arms though because she's only asking for trouble and he's needing to do something to protect her. He restrains her, twisting her around so she's facing outwards, her body pressed against his chest. He growls in her ear, "SHUT UP! Don't you think I know that I hurt her?! Why do you think I'm HERE?! I want to APOLOGIZE..."

Blair's eyes wet with tears, "YOU SONOFABITCH! All the apologies in the world won't take away the hurt you gave her!" Jerking herself out of his grip, she screams something he can't understand and really doesn't care to understand. She looks back at him breathlessly, her face streaked with mascara, looking ugly to him. He glares, unable to help himself. Anger and intense regret swishes in his mouth, a repulsive taste. Minutes click by as they both get a hold of themselves.

He curses quietly and reaches into the truck, grabbing the bottle. He fingers the label ... and tosses it back onto the seat. Shuts the truck door.

"I don't know what's going on," he says at last beneath his breath. "Things for Téa have been bad. The way she's been acting ... something in her eyes ... something's been wrong." His voice drops to a level that makes Blair think he's talking more to himself than to her.

"We made love and she looked at me with ... total fear. Nobody's looked at me like that since ... since ... "

Blair finishes his words, loudly, "Since the day you tried to rape me?"

He's quiet. "I didn't hurt her in that way, so why would she look at me like that? She's my wife... I'm so past—"

"Well, gee, Todd...you ever think MAYBE she's still squirly from the kidnapping?" Blair interrupts, sharp and sarcastic, and Todd's eyes suddenly flash with a renewed awareness of her, drawing attention that she doesn't really want so she backs off, a little.

"Look...I don't know," she says, quieter, "Whatever's going on with Téa...is between you two. I don't wanna know, really, and I sure as hell coulda done without the details of your sex life."

Todd glowers and she sniffs at his bristling, dismissing his problems which she couldn't care less about, really. Then she shrugs and says, "She seemed alright when I talked to her."

Todd focuses in tighter at that. "What did she say to you?"

Blair gives him a strange look and another shrug. "I don't know...uh...I just, asked her if she wanted to come over here for a while. She said no."

Todd tips his head back a little, deciding whether or not she might be covering for Téa, but then as he looks at her makeup-streaked face, he realizes again that no matter how much she tries, when it comes right down to it, Blair only _really_ cares about _...Blair._ She'd never lie for Téa.

"Besides," she continues, "None of that has anything to do with Starr. That's a whole separate thing and shouldn't be affecting HER."

 _Starr...right...focus on Starr right now_ _._

Todd has to make a rough shift in thinking, pausing long before replying. "Look, you don't understand. I was upset with what was happening with Téa... and I walked in on Starr surrounded by those newspaper articles about… _you know what articles_...all that STUFF. There she was, beautiful and sweet, her voice so ... sweet, and she looked at me ... and ... " He can barely say it, he feels sick.

"I watched her mouth ... and there it was ... on her lips ... the words, 'Marty' and 'rape.' Marty...Marty and rape. Jesus fucking CHRIST. I'm never going to be free of it, Blair ... NEVER, NEVER, NEVER. Don't you get it?"

She stares back at him, unmoved. "Yeah… well… get the hell over it already. Your sons are going to learn of it, Starr's going to learn of it, future kids. Them's the facts, buster. And it's partly why I'm trying to raise a girl with strength, someone who won't be hurt when she DOES learn of it. Not SO hurt, anyway. It's why you're trying to be a good father, isn't it? So she'll understand that the man who did that was someone ELSE, someone who's dead now. But then again...maybe the rapist is alive and well after all."

"I'd never do that again," Todd says immediately, but just as fast his mind wanders to Roseanne, to those 'fantasies.' It's true. Aside from the weird experiences, he'd found himself venturing into dark wishes, desires ... like from when he was young. Getting turned on by things that are just really, really _... wrong._ He's not convinced the ugliness inside of him is dead—his temper certainly isn't—nope, that's one thing that's alive and well. The question is, how far will it go?

He shrugs, whispers, "I want to see Starr. I want to say I'm sorry."

Blair sighs heavily, dramatically. She works to find some level of compassion, admitting to herself that ultimately, it's Starr she should think about. She supposes it would be important for Starr to reconnect with Todd. She pictures a psychologist telling her some such drivel, imagines the words in a parenting book. Those concepts push Blair against her natural currents of thought, though, against her wanting to punish Todd, to send him away for good. That's really what she wants.

"I hate you," she says, gritting her teeth and emphasizing her southern drawl.

"Likewise," Todd answers.

"I KNOW the right thing is to let you talk to her. But I don't wanna. I want you to know that, I want you to feel that. When you look your daughter in her eyes, know that you're hated for the things you do."

He nods. "You'll let me see her then?"

A pause...then... "Yes."

Her mouth is tight and Todd locks the truck door. Blair stares icily, looks him up and down, and snaps, "But you better watch yourself. You say the RIGHT THINGS, you make things RIGHT with her, you got me?"

He nods but truth is, he has no idea what "right" even looks like for this situation. He walks towards the open front door and turns to see Blair still looking after him. She mouths once more that she hates him. And Todd knows it's true. He finds an odd comfort in the sameness of it. He almost wants to hug her, thinking, _thank you, thank you... maybe I'm not crazy._

When he's in the foyer, noise from the television in the upstairs family room drifts downwards and he recognizes that it's a child's program playing. When he reaches the doorway at the top of the stairs, he sees Starr on her stomach on the floor, grinning at the program's host petting a baby lion, the creature nuzzling him. Todd hates to disturb her, she's so peaceful and oblivious. But he has to make things right, like Blair says ... like he wants to. Whatever that means. He'll try at least.

"Starr?"

She turns to him and her face says it all. It brightens immediately...but then for a second, just a second, a new hesitation shades it. Todd feels it like he felt RJ's punch and he almost turns and leaves. But then she jumps up, letting the sun back in.

"Daddy!" When he kneels down and holds her to him, he nearly cries with relief at how good it feels to have someone respond to him in a positive way. He didn't realize how long it had been.

"Aww, baby," he says after a moment, "I'm so sorry about the other day. I'm so, so sorry." He holds her tighter, but Starr backs off a little, wearing a sad expression, remembering.

"I didn't mean to make you mad. I won't go in there anymore."

"No, no, no ... it wasn't your fault. You can go in there any time you want. It's like any other room, same rules ... it wasn't your fault, Starr. You hear me?" His heart clenches because he knows that's the mantra that hurt children need to learn and it was something nobody ever told him. It sickens him that he needs to be telling Starr that same mantra.

"But I made a mess and if I didn't maybe you wouldn't be mad. Maybe ...maybe Tee would still be here."

 _Oh, god...she knows..._ he thinks for a split-second, but then refocuses. "Oh no, Starr, no, you didn't make me do anything and you didn't make Tee leave. My getting angry had nothing to do with you. You were curious and that's a good thing. *I* lost control and it was wrong of me to do that. *I* was the wrong one. *I* broke rules. And ... that's why Tee left. Not because of you."

She nods seriously, their eyes meeting.

He says it again, "Starr, it wasn't your fault. You have to understand that. Tee left because of ME, not you."

She's still not so sure and she wriggles in his loose grasp of her, so he lets her go. She rubs her arms and he knows she's remembering how he'd held her up, how he'd lifted her off the ground in a way she'd never known before. He swallows the lump in his throat and caresses her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"I wish I could take it all back, but I can't. I lost my temper and you have every right to be upset with me for it. Please tell me you understand that it wasn't your fault, that it wasn't you who made Tee leave. Please tell me that, Shorty."

She smiles slightly at his use of her nickname, but she furrows her brows. "Daddy, why did you smell funny?"

He looks down and shakes his head, "Umm...alcohol. I was drinking alcohol and it smells ... funny. Makes people act different sometimes... a little different. They lose judgment. But ... it's not why I did what I did ... it's just ... that's what smelled funny. That's it ... that's all it is. It's not why...it's just—"

"Grandpa Asa drinks alcohol."

"And he's the same as he always is, right?"

"Yeah. Nobody should drink it, though. That's what they say in school."

"Yeah, it's bad for everybody... especially kids. It's more poison to them ... it's poison. I'm sorry about everything. It won't happen again. I promise you." He doesn't feel like making promises though because he's lost faith in himself. How many promises has he broken to Starr already? He's afraid to count them up.

Starr brightens for a second, "Has Tee called?"

He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, "No, not yet. She will, though. I'm sure of it."

"She told me, goodbye, and she said to make sure I talk to you and to listen to you, and...not to stay mad," she says, with that kid-like concentration, trying to remember everything she's supposed to remember.

 _She said all that?_ he thinks, knowing that Starr wouldn't lie about that, wouldn't lie about anything. So Starr was the last person she talked to and even as angry as she must've been, Téa hadn't said anything bad about him. Not a thing. He suddenly feels that void, her absence in the kindness she left behind and misses her more than ever, a sickness in his belly kind of missing.

"Maybe you should tell her it wasn't her fault that you got mad. Maybe she thinks SHE made you mad."

"Yeah," he says, smiling a little at Starr's devastating innocence, "maybe she does. I, uh …" He loses the smile at a bloom of wrenching emotion because it's all so hard, too hard. He's at a complete loss for words and Starr hugs him around the neck.

"I love you, Daddy. And I know Tee does, too."

Tears find their way out anyway and he hugs her and he's thankful that she feels safe ... thoroughly safe. "I love you, too, Starr, please don't forget that. It's forever, okay?"

"I know. And I love you, too, forever."

Later, when he drives away, he's relieved he's no longer a total monster in Starr's eyes, but he knows he can't fix Téa's view of him quite as simply. Assurances, promises, a hug or two? He battles taking more poison into his system. Jack Daniels whispers its own assurances, promises, a hug or two. He pulls over and picks up the bottle. Unscrews the cap. He sniffs at the liquid ... but he can see Starr's face and he considers throwing the bottle out. Except just as he's about let it fly, he remembers Blair saying how much she hated him ... and thought of the empty penthouse ... and he holds onto the scotch. Screws the cap back on. He sets it on the passenger seat again. _Not now ..._ but maybe later.

Because Starr is away from him, safe and secure, far away from him.

 **To be continued….**


	14. Chapter 14

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 14**

Across the ocean, night has covered the English countryside for hours, and Téa and the twins sleep soundly in their room. They have grown accustomed to the place, the boys in the portable crib by the fire, Téa in the bed, buried under a pile of blankets and pillows. Out in the main room, Dean sits in the chair by the fireplace, engrossed in the glow of his laptop, reviewing and reviewing, and reviewing again. He isn't really sure why he's doing that because he knows everything there is to know about the upcoming job, knows exactly what his detail is and exactly how to do it. Endless rehearsals were making sure of it. If anything, he should be resting, clearing his head… but he can't.

 _Sure you can, you just DON'T WANT TO._

Dean freezes then whips his head around, thinking for sure he just heard somebody talking. But the main room is very dark in the distance, out of the firelight's reach like a thick, shadowy curtain. He stares into it, squinting then looks back at his computer, shaking his head. He rubs his eyes, with a heavy sigh.

"I'm hearing things," he mutters, "Great."

 _Mmmmm...that's riiiiight. You are._

Again, Dean turns to look but again, nothing. He makes a confused face, knowing he's not imagining it now. He _did_ just hear it again. A voice, a female voice.

"Téa?" he asks, since she's the only female there. But his confusion only grows as he looks at the bedroom door, still closed.

 _No, baby. Guess again._

"The fuck is goin' on here," he wonders aloud as he puts the laptop down and stands up.

 _Oooooh...y'know, I always loved it when you said that word. Some people sound so good when they swear...so sexy,_ the voice purrs, with a flirtatious giggle. All Dean can do is stand there in shock, wondering if someone is playing some kind of game with him...or if…

 _Oh, you're not nuts, baby. Don't worry about that._

A few beats of silence passes, then he walks around the room, looking everywhere and finding nothing. Finally, he stops, half-laughing to himself, then he grabs his coat and goes outside, digging for the cigarettes in his pocket. A cold wind swirls around him as he tries to light up, making the flame sputter.

 _Those things'll kill you, y'know._

The words are whispered right in his ear, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and making him drop both the cigarette and the lighter. He looks around, eyes wide. He doesn't want to speak because speaking would mean giving credence to whatever it is that's messing with him but the words start coming out anyway in a raspy low tone.

"Who IS THAT? You better show yourself, and I mean, like, NOW," he hisses through his teeth still not willing to speak in a normal tone of voice.

 _Don't you recognize me yet?_

Dean half-laughs again. "Not really."

 _Oh, come on...guess._

"Look, whoever you are, this is private fuckin' property and you're trespassing."

The voice sighs.

 _You used to be so much FUN, D...where's your sense of humor?_

 _D?_ he repeats, in his head...she knows you.

 _Well, no shit, Sherlock,_ the voice replies, in his other ear causing him to whirl around. But of course, there's nothing there. His jaw sets hard and, tired of being messed with, he reaches behind him and pulls his gun out of his belt, aiming it in every direction, scanning for any signs of movement in the dark.

"Show yourself. NOW. I'm not gonna tell you again," he says, as calmly as possible. Everything goes quiet for a moment, except for the wind rustling the trees. Dean continues to search the darkness, until finally, he catches sight of something in the distance, shadows moving within shadows. One takes shape and approaches, limbs seeming to grow from it without even breaking stride. He quirks at the strangeness of it then aims his piece at it just as it _—she—_ steps out of the protective blackness, into full view.

His lips part, his eyes widen and she smiles, her white teeth almost sparkling, _"Hi, baby."_

Without realizing, Dean continues to reel from what he's seeing, pulling back slowly, gun still aimed in. He can't speak, but his mouth moves as though he were. She laughs a little, taking fairy-light steps, almost floating toward him. He backs away, but presses in with the gun as if it could make her go away. She laughs again.

" _Put it away. You look stupid pointing a gun at nothing."_

Dean lets out a sharp breath, which seems to free up his voice. "Wh-what...the FUCK is going on here...where the FUCK did YOU come from..."

" _Shhh_ ," she replies, putting a slender finger to her lips. " _Don't wanna wake Téa now, do you?"_

His face darkens at that, the shock wearing away into anger. "What're you doing here, Rosie? How in the HELL did you...how did you find this place?" He flexes his hands around the gun, reacquiring his grip.

Roseanne shrugs casually, brushing her hair off her shoulder. It swings around behind her as if carried on a separate breeze. That's when he suddenly notices her clothes, light, cottony, perfect for a spring day. He makes another disbelieving face, and she smiles again.

" _Well, it's complicated. It'd take way too long to explain_ ," she says, gliding around him, "... _but I think you know you can't shoot me, so put the gun away already."_

Dean watches as she comes back around in front of him, stopping, seeming to set down on the ground, as she folds her arms. He stares at her for a second, then reluctantly drops his arms.

" _There, that's better."_

He swallows hard, finally giving into the idea that he must converse with this _...whatever._ "Tell me what the hell is going on here, Roseanne...how did you find us?"

Roseanne shrugs again. " _Let's just say, I followed the rain."_

Dean looks back at her, confused. "You FOLLOWED the rain?"

" _That's what I said,"_ she replies, taking a moment to look around, taking mental pictures of the house and the grounds. " _Hmmm. Not bad...you get cable in there?"_ she asks, gesturing toward the cottage, and Dean follows her glance toward the house, then looks back at her with a humorless laugh.

"Quit wasting my time, Rosie. What do you want with us?"

She cocks an eyebrow at that. " _Y'know, you keep saying 'US,'_ " she says, then cracks up. " _Ohhhh...wow...you fucked her already. Good for you."_

Dean's mouth falls open, insulted. "What?! What did you just say?" he replies, and she covers her mouth in mock-embarrassment.

 _"Oh, I'm sorry...what I MEANT was, you made her fall madly in love with you. Good for you!"_

He doesn't answer, glaring at her instead.

Finally, Roseanne sighs, rolling her eyes a little. " _Oh, yeah, now that I'm looking at you, no...you didn't do it yet, did you?"_ she asks, but still no response. She shakes her head at him. " _Well, what's stopping you?"_

"The hell do YOU care? Why are you so interested in what I'M doing all of a sudden?" he finally replies, and she grins.

" _Because I know it's what you always wanted,"_ she says, moving toward him. He recoils a bit, as she runs her fingertips up from his stomach to his shoulders, making massaging circles as she moves up to his neck. " _You've wanted her from the very beginning. Even when you were with me, I could tell it wasn't me you were fucking. It was her. It was always Téa...you live for her, don't you, baby? God, you want so much to be with her."_ She whispers the words and it feels so soft, like silk touching his ears, his neck, comforting, so seductive.

Not like her real voice.

"Why're you doing this, Roseanne? The hell do you want from me?" he mutters, feeling his eyelids getting heavier as he stares into her eyes, fascinating at their depth and darkness.

" _Shhhhhh...it's alright, baby, it's alright, just listen. I came here to warn you...you don't have much time. Todd came to see me today. He knows, baby, he knows Téa's with you,"_ she continues, her arms around his neck, her lips right by his ear.

 _"And it won't be long until he finds this place… and he WILL find you...and when he does, he won't be interested in talking things over. His rage, his fury, it's blinding him, taking him over. He can't control it. And you know what that means, D...he's going to hurt her...he's done it before and he'll do it again."_

Unconsciously, Dean reacts to that. And Roseanne grins as she feels him twitch in her arms. " _That's what I wanted to tell you...you need to move fast, baby...you need to win her...and you need to make her see that she can't ever go back to him because she's in danger, her children are in danger…"_

She paused and then with a foreboding he felt down to his toes, down in his gut… she said…

" _Their father is coming."_

Eyes still closed, Dean's brow tightens with worry. "But she doesn't...she doesn't trust me."

" _Yes, she DOES. Otherwise, she wouldn't be here. Baby, don't you see? YOU are her savior, YOU are the one. YOU can make it right, you can rescue her from this fate, you can rescue her children, you can make sure he never lays a hand on them ever again. You can do it, baby, just like you saved her from those gangbangers on that terrible night, remember? You carried her out of there, you saved her life and the lives of those beautiful babies. YOU did that and now you have to do it again."_

She then suddenly takes a sharp breath in.

Dean seems to snap out of it as she pulls away. "Roseanne?" he asks, watching as she seems to fade in and out of view.

" _Ohhh...shit,_ " she mutters, looking down at herself before once again zeroing back in on him. " _You have to do this, baby. If you love her then protect her by getting her outta here before it's too late."_

Dean watches her a minute, and then she fades away into the darkness. He shakes his head as if trying to wake himself up.

"Wait...Rose-Roseanne? Wait a minute…don't go," he says, running into the shadows but he doesn't get far. Darkness obliterates everything as it rises up around him like being in a tank that's filling with water. It disorients him, making him dizzy as it sucks the air out of his lungs. He can't even yell for help. All he can do is close his eyes, relax, and succumb to nothingness.

But then something happens. As soon as his body gives in, the suffocating feeling lessens. He feels it loosening its grip and he finds he has the room to inhale once again. He sighs, relieved. He inhales again, deeper, and opens his eyes as he blows it out. His breath seems to chase the darkness away, like wind scattering dust and the world comes back into focus.

Dean blinks a few times, as if making sure he's seeing what he's seeing. He's hunched deep in the couch, the fire low and cracking, and he sits up. He feels completely out of it, looking around at everything. But nothing has changed. Everything is as it was when he…

… _when I what?_ he asks himself, suddenly unable to remember. He stands up from the couch, slowly, hands out, touching the air as if he could make sure of its existence that way. He feels the slight breeze moving through his fingers, aware of the heat on his back from the still-burning hearth. It takes another moment, but things seem to slowly settle back in around him...or maybe... _he's_ the one doing the settling.

"What're you doing...tai-chi or something?" a female voice suddenly asks.

Startled, Dean whirls around.

Téa stands in the bedroom doorway, leaning to one side with her arms crossed, an amused grin on her face.

"Jesus," he sighs, harshly, still feeling a bit disoriented. Téa's grin disappears at his unfriendly reaction and she makes a more concerned face.

"You okay?"

He breathes hard, eyes closed again for a moment, then he nods. Téa looks over her shoulder, checking the boys, then pulls the door along behind her, almost closing it as she takes a few steps into the room. She looks him up and down, taking in his allover uneasiness and isn't sure what to say. "Bad dream?" is all she can think of, and he half-laughs, running a hand over his head.

"Yeah...I guess," he replies.

She knits her brow at the tone of his voice, so unsure and out-of-sorts, unusual for him. She wants to ask question, but doesn't. Instead, she lets it go with a sigh as she heads for the kitchen. "Well...I can't sleep, either. And I didn't wanna wake the boys, so hope you don't mind if I just hang out here for a while."

Dean nods, but is obviously still distracted. Téa watches him as he feels his way over to the chair, easing his way into it like an old man. Then he closes his eyes as lets his head drop back, exhausted. Téa turns away at last, soon busying herself with the usual late-night coffee-making.

Collapsed in the chair, Dean listens to the calm that fills the room. The crackling fire, the coffeemaker chugging and dripping, her footsteps, the opening and closing of a cupboard. The noise soothes him, the sounds of things being as normal as they could get. He opens his eyes slowly, as if waking up all over again, lifting his head and leaning forward a bit.

Téa putters around a while longer, rinsing cups and drying them out on her long sweatshirt. When she finally turns around, she locks eyes with him and freezes. It gets even quieter all of a sudden, and Téa is not really unnerved by his look so much as she is curious about it.

He stares into her with a strange intensity that she can't even describe. The closest thing she can compare it to is the way Todd often looks at her. The thought makes her look down suddenly, breaking the connection, and she immediately wonders about her husband, wonders...worries...questions and blames herself in the space of a few seconds. She sniffs it back, though, turning away from Dean to grab the carafe. She pours the coffee and walks the steaming mugs over to him, handing one to him as she sits down on the couch, tucking her legs under her.

"Thanks," he says, and she nods. Silence again, as she sips from her cup, staring into the fire. Dean continues to look at her, not wanting to stare, but for some reason unable to take his eyes off her. Whatever it was he dreamt about, it was directing his thoughts at her. He forces himself to look away because he isn't sure what he's supposed to do or say. But the dream or whatever nags at him as he takes a drink, as he feels the hot liquid spill down his throat into his gut...and a single word comes to mind.

"Manning," he mutters to himself

Téa's eyes dart over to him, wide with surprise. "What did you say?"

Dean swallows hard as he looks back at her and over a tense silence, his jumbled thoughts start to come together. Quietly he asks, "Téa, how did you get involved with… _Manning_ … with him?"

Téa blinks and stares at the coffee, curious at that unusual tone in his voice popping up again. "Why? What does it matter?" she replies, calm, but wary.

Dean sighs. _Now you've done it,_ he thinks, knowing he has to follow through.

"I, uh...I'm just...um..." he says, stumbling over words. He sighs again. "I guess I just wanna know how YOU came about. Same way you wanted to know about me."

Téa finds herself .more surprised by his candor than pissed at it. But she hesitates all the same, rubbing a knot in her shoulder for a moment to stall him, thinking maybe he'll just drop it. But when she looks back, he's still looking at her, waiting. So she sighs this time. "Look, Dean...I...I don't wanna talk about it."

He takes that in and does consider dropping the subject; but then he simply shakes his head, before he even realizes he's done it.

Téa reacts, her eyes a bit fiery. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asks sharply.

"Well...fair's fair. I mean, I'M supposed to be completely open with YOU about MY past but you won't do the same for me?" he asks, returning to his typical, unflappable self.

Téa lets out an insulted breath, aghast. She takes another sip of coffee as she gets her thoughts together, then plunks the cup down on the table and looks directly at him.

"No," she snaps. 'Fair's fair' between peers, friends, colleagues. You don't get _fair_. YOU don't get to ask me ANYTHING personal because it's none of your business."

She talks with that lawyer-perfect pitch and articulation and Dean takes it with a nod, feeling strangely pleased by her put-down, admiring it, even. He's still quiet when Téa decides to add, "My relationship with my husband...is off-limits. Got it?"

Dean cocks an eyebrow at that, then looks away. "No, not really," he replies, casually, as he stands up and stretches.

Téa follows him with her eyes, "Well, I don't really care if you get it or not. Doesn't change anything."

"Forget it then. I'll just keep my opinions to myself."

She can't stop herself from responding. "Opinions on _what_?" she asks, growing more offended as he ignores her, stretching his neck, then grabbing his coat.

"Nothing, forget it," he replies, without even looking at her. Téa watches, speechless, as he gulps down the rest of his coffee then heads for the door. He stops before he opens it. "I'll just be a good boy and keep my mouth shut from here on in. We don't have to talk. You're right. We're not friends, peers or colleagues. I just thought maybe...you might need to talk."

With that, he leaves, closing the door behind him. Téa stiffens as the cold air hits her, then dissipates in the warmth of the room. She stares at the door, feeling…

She doesn't know what she's feeling, except that, astonishingly, he's right. She looks back at the fire, torn. She should talk. She should use this time to just… figure things out. She wants to follow him, not sure if she's willing to accept what _talking_ might mean. She bites the inside of her lip, still gazing at the fire...

...as Dean lights up outside. He blows the first breath of smoke out angrily, paces around, and wonders exactly what it is he's angry at. He doesn't expect Téa to think much of him, much less open up to him, so _...what am I so pissed about? Why is this bothering me so much? Why do I even...care?_

He lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh, then he shakes his head at himself, at his own stupidity. He has to wonder what the hell ever possessed him to call her in the first place, but then it just leads him right back to the same thing.

 _This is where all that envisioning gets you...happy now?_

He stares at the black woods surrounding the cottage; and suddenly remembers being in this same position in his _… dream?_ He looks around, uneasy at that thought.

The sound of the door squeaking open makes him turn away from the woods. He sees Téa pulling the door shut, and wandering over toward him as she tightens her coat around her. She folds her arms for warmth, and finally stands near him… enough space to maintain her story of not being friends, peers or colleagues. He watches her closely, her eyes down, her breath coming out in steamy clouds.

Nothing is said for a moment then finally, she says in a soft but cool tone, "I started out working for Todd. I had represented this friend of his who was being held on murder charges and I was able to get her off, even though she did pull the trigger. Todd was...impressed and hired me to represent HIM. He was going through a really nasty divorce…fighting for custody of Starr, and, given his criminal record, it didn't look too good for him. So he came up with this...crazy idea...that if he could just get married and show the court that he could provide a stable home environment for Starr, then Blair wouldn't be able to shut him out totally. So one day, I got a ring and an offer and I decided I couldn't refuse it."

She stops for a second, starting to lose her voice to tears. Dean turns slightly, to get a better look at her but still, just listens. Téa sniffs, then clears her throat, staring straight ahead, trying not to look at him.

"It was simple, really. Just get married and stay married for a year. Live with him, provide the 'stable home,' win custody of Starr. That was it. One million dollars was deposited to my bank account the day we married and there were four million more to come."

Dean makes an impressed face and Téa clears her throat again, finally glancing at him. "There was to be no personal ties...no love, no sex...nothing like that. We even had separate bedrooms. It was all just...business."

"I take it...it didn't stay that way, though," Dean finally says, quietly...and her face softens, sadly.

"Actually, you'd be amazed how long it stayed that way," she replies, as she starts to walk around a bit, getting cold standing in one spot. "I mean, immediately, but our relationship has never really been what you call...typical...romantic...or cute."

Dean follows her with his eyes, even more curious, as she sighs, kicking the gravel around.

"Passionate, though, yeah...definitely passionate. The yell-and-scream-and-slam-doors type of passion. That's definitely us," she says, with a half-laugh. She shakes her head as she bends down to pick up a piece of the gravel, holding the cold stone in her hand.

A short silence passes and Dean waits for more, watching as she throws the stone as far as she can.

"We had some hard lessons to learn. He had to learn to open up, to trust me, to realize that he was not only capable of loving somebody, but that he actually deserved to get a little back." She sniffles from the cold and the tears. "...and *I*...I had to learn that Todd has a history I can't even begin to understand, not even now, the kind of history that prevents him from ever being at peace, y'know? I thought I could handle it though, I thought I knew the kind of heinous shit he had to live with when he was a kid. My mom ran out on our family when I was little, so I really thought I could—" She pauses, feeling more tears running down her cheeks, the wetness getting cold. "...I dunno...I thought I could reach him. I thought I did… but then he would slip away. I kept losing my grip of him, and after a while, I just couldn't deal with it. I was so in love with him, so moved by him… but I couldn't help him. I couldn't...fix...what was wrong with him, and he didn't seem to want to help himself." She wipes her face.

Dean is mesmerized by her pain, watching her pace, growing agitated as she relives it all.

"It just became this never-ending cycle. He would constantly do these stupid, terrible things to sabotage himself, AND us. And he would be so awful to me, blaming me for everything just to get me to go away, and I would, I would leave, swear I'd never come back..."

She alternates gesturing with her hands and wiping her face.

"...but it never lasted long. We treated each other so horribly, but I always went back. As awful, and cold, and cruel as he could...CAN be...he has just as much…" she searches for the right word and can only come up with one. "...beauty, love, ...and it always pulls me back," she finishes, glancing over her shoulder at Dean. "Does that make any sense at all?"

He nods, slowly, .mostly because he doesn't want her to stop talking, even if it's all about her rat-bastard husband. She is doing what he couldn't expect-but really did want-her to do. He is listening to her inner thoughts, and fascinates him, affects him. Téa feels more deeply about this than he has ever felt about anything in his whole life and he watches her with a new awareness, as she wipes her face again, turning her eyes back up to the sky.

"Ohhhh," she sighs, "anyway we finally did separate for a while, after..." She trails off, remembering for the first time in a long time the Friday-the-thirteenth wedding and the dissociative identity disorder he suffered from. She has to breathe long and hard before starting again.

"It was while we were separated that he finally got some professional help. He found a wonderful therapist and she was able to...well, she did a lot. We were FINALLY...able to just...be happy." She covers her eyes for a moment to cry behind her hand.

Dean keeps back, expecting her to keep going but it just seems that she's crying harder as the seconds pass. He sees her shaking with sobs that sound so painful, he feels it in his own gut. Still, he hesitates to cross that invisible boundary, wanting to but balking at the possible consequences. Then a thought suddenly pops into his head...something from that dream-thing he had…

 _... you need to move fast, baby...you need to win her...you need to make her see that she can't ever go back to him because she's in danger, her children are in danger._

 _Their father is coming._

He gazes at her, at how completely shredded her insides are over this man who apparently abused her even though she devoted herself to him, a man whose self-destructive tendencies are destroying her, endangering her and her children. He thinks back to Téa's kidnapping and dealing with Todd then. He was volatile, impulsive, ballsy, all to a pretty extreme level, a combination of traits that showed his instability and danger. So the idea that he would turn his anger back on those he supposedly loves _...isn't a stupid idea at all,_ Dean realizes. And Téa would become an all-too-willing target, submitting to whatever Todd decided to dish out, because of guilt not just for leaving him, but for every bad thing that's ever happened to him. _Madness,_ he thinks. He then walks to her.

Téa's cries have lessened by this time but she keeps her eyes covered anyway. Breaking down like this was not what she wanted to do. She hears the gravel crunching behind her as he approaches.

"Hey...I'm sorry..." he says, with such gentle compassion that it takes her off-guard. She bursts into tears all over again, unable to stop herself in time, and after a moment she feels his hand on her shoulder, a comforting touch that just breaks her down, right to the core of her. She tries to pull away only she can't move. He's got a good hold on her, even though it doesn't feel like it.

"I really am sorry," he says again, leaning in closer to her. "I had no idea."

Behind her hands, Téa wishes she could disappear. Take the boys and simply fold them into herself until they all vanish. She has no idea which way to go, much less what to do.

 _How did I get here...how did things get to be like this? What did I do wrong?_

She has no answers. No control. She's lost her grip again and now, things may never be right again. A sense of utter powerlessness overwhelms her suddenly, draining her energy as it flows through her. She steps back to balance herself, but only ends up backing into Dean who catches her before she falls.

Everything freezes as they stand there in this backward, awkward position but neither of them moves. Another moment passes, silent, tense, each of them feeling the closeness of the other, skating along that thin edge of unknown, dangerous territory. Finally, Téa closes her eyes, knowing what she should do, but she's too tired, too damned tired to do.

"Ohgod, what am I gonna do, what am I gonna do," she whispers over and over, more to herself than Dean as new tears melt the frozen tracks on her cheeks.

Dean has no idea what to say, or do, except to keep holding her. He sighs raspily then turns her around and pulls her into him. She doesn't fight the arms encircling her. She simply gives into it, burying her face in his chest as she cries her heart out.

* * *

Roseanne pushes back from the toilet in her cell, flushing, then wiping her mouth as she backs up against her cot. She'd puked twice already since she came back from her little _visit_ with Dean. That was the best way she could describe it. A visit. A _telepathic_ visit. She laughs a little, realizing how ridiculous it sounds _._

 _Yeah, that's right, just got back from England...jolly good fun._

She laughs again, pulling herself up onto the cot and collapsing, swallowing to keep the gag reflex at bay.

"Ohhhh...shit," she breathes, still not used to the nausea that now seems to be following each _...visit._ She'd gotten sick after wrestling with Todd in the mausoleum, then again after their confrontation in the visiting area, and right now. It worries her for a second, the fact that it seems to be getting a little worse each time. But she'd gone so much farther, and done so much more than she ever imagined. She cracks herself up, imagining how hot and heavy it must be in that cottage by now.

"It's okay, it's working, it's all coming together," she whispers to herself as she closes her eyes.

 _Think it and it will be real._

That's what Oba had said _...oh...Oba..._ she thinks, suddenly remembering her mentor, still in the infirmary. She makes a mental note to check on her in the morning, as she drifts off...resting up for the next day's work.

 **To be continued….**


	15. Chapter 15

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 15**

Fluorescent lights hang from the ceiling, illuminating the infirmary with a harsh, greenish-white that overpowers the natural light coming in from outside. Roseanne steals glances out of the tall, barred windows as she passes them by, pushing a laundry cart. She closes her eyes when she steps through the patches of late afternoon sunlight, enjoying the warmth on her skin. In those few seconds, she imagines she's free...sitting on her own private beach somewhere, far away from everyone and everything.

"Hey, Delgado," a brash, female voice says and Roseanne looks over at the guard standing there, watching her from her post.

"This ain't the fuckin' promenade deck. Move it along."

Roseanne gives her a quick, evil eye, then picks up the pace a little. She turns away from the windows and pushes the cart past the guard, through the main ward of the infirmary. All of the non-critical cases are lined up in two neat rows of beds, one on either side of her. She scans the faces for Oba. A few of the prisoners give her cool stares as she walks by, trying to intimidate her, even in their weakened states. But Roseanne just shoots it right back at them, feeling empowered by her new abilities.

 _Losers,_ she thinks as she locks eyes with one particularly mean-looking woman, sitting up in her cot, with one arm hanging in a sling. She tips her head back a bit, looking down her nose at Roseanne in the classic ghetto stance.

"So whas'up, chica?" she asks, laying it on thick. Roseanne stops, just for a moment, eyeing this woman who had tried to beat the living tar out of her several times since she'd arrived. One of the most feared prisoners in the joint, one she hoped would never notice her. But she'd picked Roseanne right out probably because of her atypical, delicate appearance, a real girlie-girl in the middle of butch central. The only thing that kept this bully from having her way was Roseanne's friendship with Oba. The woman's mysterious, creepy vibe freaked most people out.

"You gon' say somethin', bitch?" the woman prods, and Roseanne finally breaks her stare to glance back at the guard who is watching them carefully. "I mean, how'd you pull THIS detail, huh? Only sweethearts get to push the carts so whose ass you been kissin', huh?" She makes kissy noises.

Roseanne smirks, feeling a giggle coming on as she starts to walk away from her.

"How's that arm?" is all she says...and the woman nearly spits.

"Ohhh, you wait, baby. You just WAIT 'til I get outta here," she says loudly, to Roseanne's back but then she sucks her breath in, feeling a sharp stab of pain in her broken arm. As if someone just hit it with a baseball bat. She screams out in such agony, it sends the guards and nurses scrambling.

But Roseanne just keeps walking, grinning from ear to ear. She sighs with satisfaction as she gets to the end of the ward, the last bed on the right that's curtained off. Roseanne looks around, making sure no one's paying attention before sneaking over. She peels the curtain back and sees Oba lying there, eyes closed. Roseanne smiles, stepping inside and pulling the curtain closed.

"Oba," she whispers. The sleeping woman opens her eyes, then looks over at Roseanne, as she sits down on the edge of the bed. "Hi...how're you feeling?" she asks kindly, reaching for her hand.

Oba yanks it back as she sits up, pushing away from her which changes Roseanne's smile to a confused look.

"Oba, what...what's the matter? What's wrong?"

"Why did you come here? What do you want?" she asks, abruptly. It's the first time Roseanne's heard her voice in days and it sounds so different now, so apprehensive. Not at all like her usual calm, collected voice. Roseanne shakes her head.

"I just wanted to see if you were okay."

Oba looks her up and down, like she's searching for something in particular and Roseanne notices that she won't look her in the eyes for more than a second. It worries Roseanne to see her friend still like this, after all this time so she backs off a little, standing up.

"I thought you'd be back to normal by now. What happened?" she asks, swallowing hard. "What did I DO?"

Oba relaxes a bit at Roseanne's distance but she still avoids her eyes. "You still don't know?"

"No, I don't. Oba, please. If I hurt you, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

Oba closes her eyes at that. "Yes...I know dat," she replies, and Roseanne sighs.

"Well...good. Now you can tell me what the hell's going on with you? why're you acting like this? It's like you're… SCARED of me or something. Why?"

Oba doesn't answer. Instead, she turns her face toward the wall which makes Roseanne nuts. "And why won't you LOOK at me? The hell is THAT about?" she says anxiously but tries to keep her voice down.

It takes her a moment, but finally, Oba says: "I can't."

"You can't WHAT?"

"I can't look at you, cher. I just can't."

Roseanne waits for more, but it doesn't come. So she throws her hands up in frustration. "Oba, will you please, PLEASE, talk to me? I have no idea what the fuck you're going on about and you're starting to scare the shit outta me! Now TALK TO ME! Please."

She walk to the wall and slams her back up against it. "Okay, look...look...I'll shut my eyes," she offers. "Does that help? Will you talk to me now?"

Oba glances over at that and sees her there against the wall, head tipped back, eyes shut. She breathes a little easier, taking her in for a moment before speaking. "I'm sorry, cher...I do not...MEAN to treat you like 'dis. But jou must unnerstand...jou are not jourself anymore."

Roseanne almost looks directly at her, but catches herself. She squeezes her eyes shut tighter. "What're you talking about? OF COURSE I'm myself...I feel FINE. In fact, I feel GREAT! Do you have any IDEA what I can DO now?" she says, with new energy. "Oh, Oba, it's...it's so much more than I ever imagined. I can't even find the words to describe it. I can leave this place for hours at a time...I can see, and touch...and interact with people thousands of miles from here! It's INCREDIBLE!"

"Jes...jou have become...quite powerful," Oba replies, watching her sadly, noting her animated body language as she relives the highs of the last few days' exploits.

"I can manipulate anything, ANYONE. Ohhhh, you shoulda seen it, Oba...that day in the visiting area. My god, it was unbelievable!"

Roseanne squeals with a girlish giddiness, remembering the intense confrontation with Todd. "There was so much POWER in that room, so much that the room couldn't hold it all. The windows just... _shattered_..." Her voice quiets down to an intense whisper, her body shivering with the memory, so angry and so frightening, but so sensual and intoxicating at the same time.

 _"Can you see yourself, my lover? Can you see how you tower over the children in their cradles?"_

 _"Yes."_

 _"You want to pick them up, don't you?"_

 _"Yes, I can help them."_

 _"Oh yes, of course you can. You will help them. You will pick them up. In fact, you're picking them up now, my lover, with your powerful hands that are closing around their throats, my lover."_

 _"No...stop..."_

 _"Ohhhh NOW look who's so tough, my sugary pet, my little lamb. You're killing them, Todd, right in front of Téa. Imagine that your wife, your beautiful wife, is watching you kill her very own children. Do you see now what she's been seeing all along? She had to run from you because she knows what you're capable of. You and I, we fuck in the mausoleum because *I* am NOT afraid of you, because *I* can cripple you. I enjoy crippling you. I am SO much more than you, you little...piece...of...shit."_

Roseanne smiles broadly, as she strokes her own neck, then moves down to her shoulder to the bite mark, the place where Todd took his own little piece of her and left a little of himself behind.

"Oh, Oba, you shoulda SEEN HIS FACE. He was SO SURE he had me, cocky little bastard. But I showed him, showed him what he REALLY is." She laughs. "I brought the dream to him, that image I planted in Téa's head. I showed him and he FREAKED! And then, I added the icing," she says, gesturing with her hands. "I told him that Téa was with Dean and that they were probably screwing each other's brains out by now!"

She giggles madly for a moment, then it subsides as she realizes Oba's being very quiet.

"Anyway...I wish you coulda seen it."

A short silence.

Oba then says, "I HAVE seen it."

Roseanne has to open her eyes at that, desperately wanting to look at Oba. She doesn't want to spook her though any more than she is already. "What do you mean?" she asks.

Oba breathes a heavy sigh. "Roseanne, tell me someting. Jou really think that jou CREATED dat image you sent to your... _enemy_? Jou really tink dat was all YOUR doing?"

The question sends a chill down Roseanne's back.

"I don't know what you mean. Of course *I* created it. How ELSE would it have been created?"

Oba sighs again, at Roseanne's lack of comprehension. She stares at the chinks in the white concrete wall which becomes a movie screen of sorts, to project her thoughts onto.

"The demon in de long, black coat...so black," she starts, whispering the words so quietly that Roseanne almost doesn't hear.

"What?"

"...long coat, long hair, flowing wild in de wind, on a beach, at sunset..."

Roseanne's eyes widen and she moves closer to Oba, who keeps her eyes to the wall.

"How did you...how could you know that?" Roseanne asks, but Oba continues over her.

"He kills de children while de mother watches. He chokes dem, bashes der heads open on trees and she is helpless to stop him."

Roseanne just stares at her, amazed...and worried.

"How do you KNOW all that?" she asks again with more firmness in her voice.

Oba sniffles like she's crying. "Because I have SEEN IT, child. Don't jou unnerstand that yet? THAT is what I have seen in YOUR eyes!"

"What?!"

"Jou did not CREATE dat image, cher. How can jou create what already exists?"

Roseanne's mouth falls open at that, as Oba covers her own eyes, not wanting to see even the traces of it on the backs of her eyelids.

"Oh, Roseanne...jou do not realize what jou have done to yourself."

"Oh god, Oba, what the FUCK are you talking about? Speak ENGLISH!"

"Jou ARE extremely powerful now, dat is true. But it won't last and in de end, it will be your undoing. Jou are lost."

For a moment, Roseanne has no idea what to say. None of this is making any sense to her and she rubs the spot between her eyes, feeling lightheaded and dizzy all of a sudden. "Would you please stop talking at me like some goddamned fortune teller? 'I am LOST,'" she repeats in a mocking tone. "Lost to WHAT? What the hell is THAT supposed to mean?"

"It MEANS...dat jou are tainted. Jour spirit has mixed with his, and now he lives in YOU."

Her words seem to still the entire room and Roseanne looks directly at her, without thinking.

Oba gasps, turning her head away even more. Roseanne wants to reach out, shake her to make her take the words back. But for some reason, she can't. She pulls her collar down, unconsciously, and runs her hand over the bite mark, the bruise that won't heal.

"Are you telling me that Todd really IS a-a demon of some kind? Is THAT what you're telling me?" she whispers, crouching down low to Oba's eye level. Oba just shakes her head.

"No. Jou need to learn, to look past the flesh, cher."

"Well, if he isn't a demon, then WHAT IS HE?"

Oba stares into the wall again, her eyes glazing a little. "He is a man, a man who has been touched by evil in the deepest, most horrible way. It must've happened when he was a child. I can feel it coming from you, cher, his...lost innocence...fear and...torture. Sick pain. Anger. Rage he cannot contain..." She trails off for a moment, overcome by what she senses.

"...it has changed him, his entire being. He has gone beyond dis world without ever leaving it and he lives in both worlds, de natural, de supernatural, but he belongs to neither."

Roseanne gapes at that and can only shake her head in disbelief, as Oba covers her eyes. "He has a most...rare...and terrible spirit, cher. And now it has touched YOU."

Roseanne says nothing. She looks up at the ceiling in frustration, getting fed up. She starts hearing noises outside the curtain. The familiar footsteps of the guards. So she stands up, looking down at her traumatized friend.

"So...are you saying he's MORE powerful than me?"

Behind her hands, Oba laughs, sadly. "Dis is no contest, cher. Jou are aware of your abilities and he is only partially aware of his. He knows dat _someting_ is different about him, knows dat he is capable of terrible tings, knows dat he can sense what others cannot. But he does not WANT dese abilities. He just wants to be able to love his wife and children without being afraid of that... _ting_...inside of him."

Roseanne takes that in, tipping her head back a touch. "You sound like you feel sorry for him."

"Child, I am just affected by what I feel coming off of YOU. It is deep, potent… and dat is merely residual. I don't ever want to see dis man face-to-face."

"Uh-huh. Well, he may have had a hard life, yeah, but I'll tell you something, Oba. He is not someone to feel sorry FOR. He's a shit. The absolute lowest of the low and he deserves everything he gets. Now if you'll excuse me, I don't have time to listen to this crap anymore."

Roseanne seethes as she grabs the curtain. Then she stops, taking a breath.

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened to you, I really am, but if you expect me to believe that TODD is some kind of fuckin' warlock, you're outta your mind. Just because he's a bastard and got beaten up by his father doesn't make him special. He'll go down just like the rest of them."

"Roseanne," Oba calls, with a firm tone.

Roseanne turns slightly, but doesn't look at her.

"Do yourself a favor. Let your vendetta go."

"What?! Are you nuts?" she before she can turn around, one of the burly female guards pulls the curtain away and grabs Roseanne by the shirt.

"Goddammit, Delgado. The hell do you think you're doing? Get over here!"

"I'm not letting ANYTHING go," she says to Oba as she struggles against the guard. "I didn't do all this work for nothing! They're ALL going down, every single one of 'em!"

Oba finally turns to look at her, braving Roseanne's eyes to say what she has to say. "I am warning you, cher, for your own good. LET IT GO. Because if you do not, jou WILL regret it."

"Oh, fuck that! And FUCK YOU! I dunno WHAT you're trying to do, but I'm not scared of you, not scared of HIM, not scared of ANYBODY!"

"You're GONNA be scared of ME if you don't shut the fuck up right now!" the guard yells and the other inmates look on as Roseanne gets dragged down the hall and out of the ward. Oba looks after her with a mixture of pity and helplessness, knowing what Roseanne is about to get herself into…

… and knowing that this was the last time she would ever see her.

* * *

From the very start, love had always empowered Todd, except it had never been quite enough to save him. A fact he intensely wants to change.

The feel of Starr's lasting hug serves as a sweet reminder that he's human, that there'd been a time when a glance from his direction evoked interest as opposed to rejection or fear. Digging down, as if digging into a satchel full of treasures, he pulls up an image of Téa reading a letter on the steps of the penthouse, raising her eyes and smiling at him. He had been watching her from his desk, watching her crease her brow as she pored over a demand letter from a client, watching her concentrate on the words in front of her with an unconscious chewing on her lower lip, a move that had made him want to kiss her. He remembers how her severe expression disappeared entirely when she caught him, how she lit up at the sight of him eyeing her.

The red light changes to green and he punches the gas, contemplating that look of Téa's on the stairs, so open to him.

 _Come on, Manning,_ he tells himself, _that kind of love doesn't just go away._ No, the kind of love she gave him will beat out a bit of hurt. She simply needs time, she's looking anywhere she can to get a sense of safety because she's been through hell. He knows that kind of hell. Desperation made her choose... _Shelton_. And he's sure whatever it is that she's sees in him, he's sure it's nothing. He decides in that instant that he's going to give her the safety she's dying for _...yeah…_

He's drawing strength from Starr's love, from the recall of Téa's love, from Téa's own strength. She survived Roseanne's evil before and she'll survive it again. And he's not going to fuck it up, either.

 _No,_ he's been too entrenched in this stuff with Roseanne and his imagination has gone wild with jealousy and grief.

Simple, easy to understand, beatable.

He's going to do this, do it right.

Taking a cleansing breath, he maneuvers the truck into the parking lot of RJ's bar, hogging a couple of spaces. Climbs out, slams the door shut and adjusts his long wool coat, black as night.

He saunters towards the door, liking the cold air, liking the feel of being grounded, and he's thoroughly unaware of several people getting out of his way, unaware of the power he emits. A bouncer at the front door nods to Todd, "Mr. Manning, go on in."

A group of young punks smoking outside the entrance turn to look and Todd glances briefly at them. Cool stares all around. They all turn away, sniffing, taking on airs.

The bouncer shrugs, "Just kids, don't mean nothin'."

"Right."

"Go on in, sir," the guy says again, smoothly, Todd breezing past him.

Pushing the doors open to the bar, he gives the place a once-over and doesn't see RJ. Music thumps throughout the place and there are pockets of people, dancing, talking, so he's forced to move through the crowd towards the counter. Eyes are on him, but he doesn't notice.

He possesses the room, takes up more than physical space, and some resent it because he isn't one of them. He's an outsider. A dark-skinned woman slithers up to him, taking a risk, and stops his progress.

"Hey...you new in here."

"What's it to you?" he grumbles, unable to step around her unless he forces the point. But he doesn't feel the need to… _push_.

"I like fresh meat," she says, with a lovely, sexy smile.

He chuckles, "Shit. You're lookin' in the wrong place."

"Ooooh honey, I don't think so," she breathes, "You're something to behold."

"That right?" He looks down at her and her girlfriends are all watching and so are their men, and they're alternating between discomfort at her trying to show everyone up by being the one to get the stranger and annoyance that he appears to be brushing her off. Brushing off one of their girls.

She shimmies up closer to Todd, flaunting her full, barely-covered breasts, trying to get him to dance with her, her arms reaching for him but not touching, her body writhing sexily mere inches from him, her heat mixing with his and creating this undeniable energy between them, except he doesn't give in to it. He stands there utterly unaffected, bored even.

Finally, licking his lips because he wants a drink, he says coolly, "I gotta run, watch yourself."

He steps around her and she's humiliated, waving him away. But one of the men who's a part of her group doesn't like the glaring insult so when Todd reaches the bar—leaning forward on it and asking for a coffee—the tall man approaches him, spitting, "What's wrong with you? Don't like that nice woman who's showin' an interest? She not good enough for you?"

Not hearing the woman's defender, Todd doesn't turn, sipping the black coffee instead. He focuses on the steam rising from the liquid, listens to the gentle rhythm of the music. He's so resolved, so prepared. He's going to be Téa's hero, the shoulder for her to cry on, her safety net. Yeah, it's right here in the palm of his hand. He's got the whole thing planned—

"Hey, I'm talkin' to you," the man seethes, "Listen the fuck up, man-"

"Or what?" Now he hears this guy. Todd straightens up and looks directly at the man, surprised to see fear in his eyes. He doesn't know why it's there, not really. Should be an even match, both being the same height, same weight.

"You dissed our girl and it ain't right. I'm here to fix it."

Todd just stares at him, expressionless, which really freaks the guy out. At that, he says calmly, "I'm married. Not looking for anything here. Just meeting someone on business."

The man takes it in, considering it…

...then Todd leans forward a tad and adds in a soft tone, "But you tell her, if I wasn't married, she'd get a lot more than what she came lookin' for. Might even be sorry."

The man looks Todd up and down and backs off, "Hey, no problem, man." Disappears into the darkness of the club.

The coffee tastes good to Todd, black and bitter as hell. Growing impatient, he searches the room once more for his "only friend in the world," finally asking the bartender.

Before long, RJ does make his appearance, moving through the crowd easily, heading right for Todd. "Well, ain't you looking somethin' like normal," he purrs, an expression of sarcasm dancing across his features.

"So do you," Todd snaps.

RJ snorts a little at that. "Right. Let's get to business, shall we? Got some info for you."

"Get to it."

"Let's go in the back."

* * *

The club from behind the walls of RJ's office becomes muted, the music and sounds of people combining into a rhythmic hum that's almost soothing in just how undefined it is. How nicely the noise blocks out internal noise...how great it is to just listen.

Todd sinks into a cushy chair and somewhat grins at RJ, or at least he tries, nodding, "Nice."

RJ is taken aback by this curious change in Todd. He seems way too relaxed, too even-keeled. He'd been watching Todd since he got to the club, let him alone because RJ didn't trust him. He admits that Todd managed the woman coming on to him quite ably, not to mention her friend. Yes, instead of going nuts on the dude, he said a few choice words and the whole thing ended without incident. _And_ he was drinking coffee.

Yeah, he cleaned up to almost normal.

Todd wants the report though, "So let's hear it, man."

RJ sniffs, snapping out of his train of thought. "Phone call places Shelton in the southern portion of central England, probably London. Don't have a specific location yet, but we're working on it."

Todd waits, expecting more. "That's it? That's all you got?" That even-keeled temper lessens, understandably though.

"Well, no. I got one more thing."

"What?"

"I checked with all my sources in London after my boy traced the call. Apparently, there's word on the street of a major bank job coming up, so my guess is, Shelton's on the crew."

Wrenching himself out of the chair, Todd paces the room, running a hand through his hair, shaking his head. He starts talking without quitting the movements. Back and forth.

"Not good enough, Gannon. We're running out of time."

"You think I don't KNOW that? Look, man, we traced him to London. We HAVE A CITY. It's just a matter of figuring out EXACTLY where he is. So we should have a make on him no later than day after tomorrow or next day, at the latest."

"That's not...fucking...good enough!"

Normal was slipping.

"What else you want from me, son? I'm doing the best I can here." RJ settles back against the edge of his desk, disheartened, too. He studies Todd and sure as hell doesn't want to deal with him losing it again. He doesn't want to bail him out of jail again. Looking inwardly, RJ realizes he's battling that war again: who's better for Téa? Shelton or Manning? What's the best for _her?_

"There's gotta be something," Todd grumbles before spinning to RJ again. "You mean to tell me that your 'sources' couldn't GIVE you his exact location? I mean, come on, man! Come on...".

Todd's eyes are clear and the pain of loving Téa is shining through, getting to RJ.

"I DID ask and they DON'T KNOW. Crews don't ADVERTISE their whereabouts, man. It's usually bad for business, y'know?" He then adds sadly, "I mean, we've just hit a bit of a wall, and I can't think of anything else to do right now. Except wait."

Todd stops pacing and looks at RJ. "There IS another thing we can do."

"What?"

The music thumps wildly, the crowd getting high on the music and on whatever else is floating around the place. Todd breathes that energy in. He can feel it even from here, inside of himself. It's firing him up.

"Let's go talk to Roseanne. She knows where they are."

RJ sighs tiredly at that, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Yeah...right. Like the last time you talked to her. Hell to the NO, man."

"Nah...it's okay. I'm all right. I can deal with whatever shit she throws in my direction."

The way he says it _almost_ sounds legitimate, _almost_ sounds real. RJ rubs his lips together, straightens up, then walks around Todd, observing him. "Okay," he says, "let's just SAY I believe you, let's just SAY I take a chance, and she knows something—"

"She doesn't know 'something,' she knows _everything._ Forget your hired geek and your con network, forget that shit. SHE knows it all. We just have to pull it out of her."

"Uh-huh. Well, it's not really Rosie I'm worried about. How the hell can I know how YOU'RE gonna act? Man, you lost it with her. _Hugely_ … and lemme tell you, I ain't up for that shit again."

Todd sniffs and grabs hold of RJ's shoulders, "I saw my daughter tonight. I'm okay. Look, I get you, I get how you feel about Téa. This is all about _her_ , getting her back home. We both want that."

He's so rational, so _with it_. RJ looks hard at Todd, then shrugs him off. "Well...why would she tell you ANYTHING?"

"Because WE'VE got the power, Gannon. We're on the outside. No matter what she says, she's got nothing on the inside. We can make her life better, more comfortable."

RJ's stomach tightens. Manning's too relaxed about this, too… normal. "Oh, and why do I think she doesn't give a good goddamn about that?"

"I wanna try. Let's at least TRY IT. I mean, we're sitting on our asses anyway. Look, if she won't give or she's yanking our chains, fine. Nothing we can do. We wait for your guys to get back to us."

Someone knocks on the door, RJ shouting, "Yeah, come in."

It's the bouncer saying, "Boss, someone here lookin' for you."

"We're running out of time," Todd says, ignoring the intrusion. "She's with Shelton, the guy who kidnapped my daughter, who kept her from me. Now he's got Téa...and my boys. I'm TELLING YOU, Roseanne KNOWS where they are."

The music has gotten louder, thanks to the door being opened and the scent of cologne, perfume, cigarette smoke pours in. The hurt in Todd's voice is palpable, real...he's so very wounded.

RJ asks the bouncer, "Who is it?"

"It's about the new liquor account...the big one, you know."

"Yeah."

Todd says, "RJ, please...it's MY kids out there. It's Téa. We have to give it one more shot. I'll be all right, I promise you."

 _Rock and a hard place,_ RJ thinks to himself. Todd is unpredictable, like fucking nuclear energy, good when controlled, good when monitored, but if something goes wrong in the process…

Well, the analogy is self-explanatory.

Todd breathes in, sniffles noisily, snapping his fingers nervously, pacing.

The bouncer asks, "Boss? You want to see him or not?"

"No, I can't. Not right now, I got somethin' to take care of. But tell him I'll call him."

RJ speaks firmly and relief washes over Todd. He knows he's gotten cooperation. _Yeah...cooperation._

Once the bouncer splits and the door is closed again, RJ swings around and stares right at Todd. "You blow this and you'll be stuck, Manning, STUCK...you get me? I ain't posting bail for you again."

"I got ya'...totally got it."

Within minutes, Todd and RJ are headed back to the womens' correctional facility, walking through the club's crowd once more. RJ follows Todd, follows the swift walk, the way he glides through the crowd. They get smacked by cold once outside and he's unaffected, unmoved, because he's got one thing on his mind: to get to the prison, to get to Roseanne. He's like a missile.

RJ looks up at the night sky, at the stars, pulling out his cell phone. He's got a contact at the prison, a woman who'll get them in this late. _It'll work._ He thinks. He knows Téa is most likely seeing a morning sky by now. More time lost. RJ shivers when he's done with the call. Yanks his coat tightly around him before he gets into Todd's truck.

Todd has started the engine, loud, angry punk rock scraping out of the speakers, and RJ winces at its ugliness, catching Todd giving him a sidelong glance and a sly-fox smile...

"We got her, Gannon. She'll tell us where they are. It's gonna work."

And it's that smile that gives RJ second thoughts on all this but what he sees in it, he can't explain.

Back outside the club, the bouncer had watched his boss leave with Mr. Manning, a bouncer from humble beginnings. He had a grandmother—Louisiana's best—and she always told him to watch for the devil, saying to him in that scratchy voice of hers.

 _He comes in black, boy, 'cept not like you and me. He wears it on the inside. You can see it shining through his eyes brighter than the sun, you can feel it in the dead of winter ... and you can feel it on your skin sure s'if you were lying flat on a desert floor._

Yeah...he did. He felt it.

 **To be continued….**


	16. Chapter 16

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 16**

Brendan and Evan amuse themselves in the makeshift playpen their mother designed for them: a couple of blankets laid out on the living room floor, surrounded by pillows. Téa sits on the floor with them, leaning up against the couch, watching them, listening to their happy babbling which almost sounds like a conversation. Evan makes a noise of some sort and Brendan replies, and so it goes back and forth, back and forth.

"What're you guys talking about, huh?" she asks, moving in closer to play with their feet. The boys both look at her, quieting down, as if she'd just busted in on some secret discussion. Téa laughs a little.

"Ohhh...I see. No girls allowed? Classified information?"

The twins are silent. Happy to see her, of course, as always, but silent, and Téa tries not to read too much into it. _They're just babies!_ She can't help it though. It feels like they're talking about her, that they've observed her behavior over the last few days and now they're comparing notes, determining between the two of them, whether or not she's completely lost her mind. Judging her.

 _And why not...why shouldn't they?_

She looks at Brendan with guilty eyes, the oldest by a minute, the youngest wiseman in history. He looks back at her with Todd's eyes, all colors and none, a critical edge to his gaze. Just like his father.

"Aiii, mijo," she breathes as she picks him up, laying him on her legs to face her. "You do know how sorry I am about all this, don't you?"

Brendan stares at her, squirming a little. Téa smiles back at him, sadly.

"Well, if you don't already know, I'm telling you now. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I took you away from home, I'm sorry that…" She pauses, her voice cracking in emotion, "I'm sorry we can't be with your dad. I'm sorry you're not in your own bed. I'm sorry it's cold here...I'm sorry about everything."

She sniffles as she kisses his hand. He tries to grab her nose and makes some unintelligible, babbly noise back. Evan pipes up just then, getting annoyed at being left out so she puts Brendan back down next to him.

"I just hope you guys know how much I love you. I'll do anything to keep you safe...and if that means we can't be with your father for a while then...that's just how it's gonna have to be. I don't like it, and I know you don't either, but...I don't know what else to do...not right now, anyway. I'll figure it out, though. I promise.

"We'll be okay," she whispers after a second, then sits back up, taking a deep breath.

She hears Dean's car pulling up outside, finally. She looks at her watch and sees how late it really is, ignoring the fact that she seems to care. She picks up the boys, one by one, sitting each of them in their seats on the couch and covers them with a blanket, anticipating the chilly wind that blows in as the door opens.

Dean steps in, and quickly shuts the door behind him.

Téa straightens up, pushing her hair behind her ear, quickly glancing at him then away.

"Hey," he says, "sorry I'm so late getting back."

As usual, an awkward silence settles in. Still awkward even after last night when she cried herself to exhaustion in his arms. Téa rubs her neck nervously, remembering it, remembering how quiet and patient and kind he had been before walking her back to her room and sitting with her until she fell asleep.

And sleep she did. When she woke up it was light out and he was gone.

She breaks the silence with a sigh then putters around, picking up the blankets and pillows. Dean watches her for a moment, remembering all the same things she did...then clears his throat to get her attention.

"Umm...could you do me a favor?"

Téa looks over at him, curious, then shrugs. "Depends on what it is."

He smiles, a small grin, and picks up the babies' seats, gesturing for her to follow him into the bedroom. Téa follows behind, carrying the blankets. She dumps them on the floor as he sets the boys down on the bed. He turns to face her, taking a deep breath.

"Okay. I need you to stay in here for a little while. Can you do that?"

She immediately does a take, wary now. "Why? What's going on?"

Another small smile, "Don't worry, it's nothing bad. I just..." He shifts around uncomfortably. "...I.. uh...I have a surprise for you."

Téa's brow knits up tight at that and he flashes that smile again, sheepish now, a little embarrassed.

"Look, I just need you to stay in here while I...go get it," he gestures toward the door.

Téa opens her mouth to speak, but she decides to play along, giving a wave of her hands in capitulation.

Dean lingers on her lovely, resigned look...then grins again. "Fifteen minutes...twenty at most. You'll hear noises out there but DO NOT COME OUT until I tell you. Got it?"

Téa stares at him for another moment, then shrugs. "Agreed, fine."

"Alright," he replies, then leaves the room.

Téa sits on the bed with the boys, making the same confused face at them.

Five minutes pass, ten minutes...fifteen…

She sets Evan down in the crib after changing him and his brother. The boys hang together, going back to their mysterious conversation. She shakes her head at the noises that are indeed happening in the living room… clunking, clanking, clinking. She puts her ear to the door, listening closely. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was doing dishes. But other than coffee mugs and a couple of plates, there really aren't any dishes to do. She pushes away from the door, and goes back over to the bed, falling on it with a heavy, 'I give up' sigh.

After she dozes off for a bit… for how long, she's not sure… there's a knock and she lifts her head, Dean peeking in.

Téa pulls herself up and cocks an eyebrow at him. "Can I come out now?"

He hesitates, drawing out the drama, then he nods. Téa stands up, stretching, checks on the twins. Dean stands in the slight opening of the door, waiting for her. When he won't move out of the way fast enough, Téa huffs impatiently. He looks back at her with a definite glint in his eyes, amused at knowing something she doesn't. He opens his mouth, starting to say something, then simply steps aside, opening the door all the way.

Téa steps back into the living room, not seeing anything unusual at first...then her eyes catch the light to the side of her and she turns toward it. "Oh," she whispers, taking it in as Dean steps up next to her.

"Thought you might be tired of the same old same old," he says, gesturing toward the fireplace area which has been transformed.

In front of it, the coffee table is dressed up for dinner with a nice tablecloth, two place settings, and a few candles. Beyond the snazzy enticement are large paper bags on the kitchen table-clearly take-out. Téa looks over at him a moment before returning to the presentation. Dean tries to hold her gaze but she won't keep it. He doesn't want her to be suspicious or untrusting… but to hope for face-value appreciation is too much. He gets that. But still...

The two of them stand next to each other in silence for a moment, uncomfortable all over again, especially Téa. She finds herself strangely touched by the effort and yet bothered by it just the same. There's something inherently wrong about the whole thing and yet it lifts her low spirits. She cannot help but be reminded of Todd. The familiarity of it almost hurts. This is something he would do. But of course, Dean doesn't know that.

Finally, Dean says, "Look, it's just dinner. I thought after last night, you...I dunno..."

"Thought maybe I'd like some decent food?" she finishes.

Dean cracks up at that, far beyond what her comment is worth. "Hell yeah. If anything, *I* could use some decent food...fuckin' hate English _cuisine_." They smile in mutual distaste and Dean says, "Hope you like Chinese."

* * *

Dean sits back from the table about an hour later, letting out a satisfied sigh. He grabs his bottle of Chinese beer and leans back against the big chair, looking over at Téa who's polishing off her last forkful of noodles. She chews with her eyes closed, thoroughly enjoying it.

"Mmmm," she hums, as it goes down. Then she licks her lips as she plunks her fork onto the plate and looks over at him. "Wow. It feels like years since I had a real dinner."

"I hear ya'," he replies, finishing his beer. He moves back toward the table, pushing dishes away to lean on it with his elbows. Téa automatically starts tidying up, stacking the takeout containers and plates.

Dean makes an amused face. "Y'know, you're not the maid."

Téa freezes, suddenly realizing how much time she spends cleaning up, how much time she spends trying to _fix_ things. She doesn't want to analyze _that_. "I know," she replies, putting everything down and leaving it. "It's just a habit with me."

Dean shrugs, nods in understanding, and stands up, grabbing everything. He carries what he can to the sink and dumps it in. Téa hears the fridge open and close and then she turns to see him in the bedroom doorway, two beers in hand, checking on the twins.

"They alright?" she asks and he nods, lingering on them a bit before walking over to the chair that's become his official spot. He hands Téa one of the beers before sitting down.

"They're asleep again," he says, leaning forward to pop the beer cap on the edge of the table. Téa does the same thing, the cap flying off with a _psst-clink_ before it gets quiet again. From her spot on the floor, she looks over at him, curious, as he stares thoughtfully at the bottle in his hand.

"Listen, Téa," he starts, finally looking at her, "...um...we need to talk."

She tips her head, suddenly wanting to laugh, a real wild, screaming laugh. Do they… _need to talk?_ She's a little tipsy, she realizes, controlling the crazy giggling fit that's so close to coming out. Oh they need to talk all right. Except there's too much to say, too much to look at, too many reasons for her to run out of here like her hair is on fire. It's all too much, too absurd, so she just shrugs, casually, waiting, for this little chat they supposedly need to have.

Dean takes a swig off the bottle then gets down off of the chair, back onto the floor. He brings his knees up and lets his elbows hang on them.

"Umm...I'm...not really sure how to do this," he continues, more to himself than her. Téa tucks her legs under her, leaning forward a bit, waiting as he hesitates, as he takes another moment before looking at her again. "I think you already have some idea what it is I'm actually DOING out here, right?"

 _I don't know… rescuing me from my own crazy? Making up to me for kidnapping me and me nearly getting killed?_

Téa shoves her slightly hysterical thoughts aside, however, admitting the obvious criminal enterprise he's bound to be involved in. "I have my suspicions," she says.

He nods, avoiding her eyes. "Well, you still have every reason in the world to hate me-"

"Yep," she snaps, gruffer than she intends.

"And…," he pauses a moment at her interruption, guilt washing over him, drawing his features into an expression of regretful pain but charging on with the _chat_ , "...we're not bound by any kind of agreement or anything so there's nothing to stop you from ratting me out to the local cops once I tell you all this. But I'm gonna tell you anyway 'cause time's getting short and you need to know, should know… because I don't want any secrets in this."

She takes that in, his strange confessional tone, his motivation of "no secrets," the idea that they could have some _agreement_ between the two of them as if there could be a legal bent to their relationship. A contract. A deal. _Five million if you'll pretend to be my wife._ The piano-keys review rockets her once again into a contradictory, upside-down disorientation that she constantly returns to when it comes to…

...him.

Dean breathes deep, taking another swig. He puts the bottle down onto the table and settles back with another, heavy sigh. "This is...hopefully...my last job."

 _Job..._ the word makes Téa unexpectedly sad or disappointed or… _something_. She knew of course. She wasn't stupid. But still… it's almost as if she was _hoping_ he was pure in his penance to her. That maybe his only reason for existence was to pay her reparations for what he'd done to her.

"Well, it's not just me," he continues, "I mean. It's a team of people. But hopefully, if all goes the way it should, we'll be in and out of there in less than twenty minutes. Just real quick, hopefully, bam-bam-bam, hit and run, make off with a fortune...and hopefully...disappear."

"You keep saying 'hopefully,'" Téa finally says, looking up.

Dean tips his head from side to side, more unsureness, "Yeah...well, I mean, you can't exactly take these things for granted. There's always a chance things'll go to shit, no matter how well you prepare."

 _Things could go to shit._

Téa bites her lip, the slight drunken feeling fading away, hard, all the comfort of the evening going right out the window. Dark clouds are rolling in again, threatening to rain down on them in a stormy deluge. It angers and scares her all over again, the sense of powerlessness she's been trying to escape shooting to the surface. And with that powerlessness, comes fury. Her eyes light up.

"And what happens if... things DO go to shit? Where does that leave ME? My children?" she says bitterly, barely controlling her sudden rage.

"That's why I wanted to talk to you. It's not fair for me to keep you in the dark about all this. It affects you, too, so I think...WE...need to figure out a plan-"

"There is no 'WE,'" she fires back, automatically. "WE are nothing."

Dean closes his eyes, shaking his head, stupidly. "I wasn't saying it like that."

"Really? Then what WERE you saying it like?!" She gives him an acidic, accusatory stare as she scrambles to her feet and walks to the bedroom, closing the door so the babies won't hear the fight that's about to break out. And fight… is gonna happen. She turns back around, as he stands up.

"I can't believe you," she hisses.

"Can't believe… what?"

"I can't believe you brought me HERE when you KNEW you were gonna be doing this! When you knew... _things could go to shit._ "

Dean stands there for a moment, a little stunned. This was NOT how he saw this convo going. He does his own scrambling. "Wait," he says, "I BROUGHT you here because you needed help, remember?"

He tries to keep his voice down but it's no good. He's defensive and he can't help it.

She laughs humorlessly, as she gestures around the place. "You call THIS help? An isolated cabin in the middle of God-knows-where?! Jesus! Why couldn't you just leave me ALONE?! Why did you ever call me?!" With that, she starts storming around, wanting to leave, but knowing there's nowhere she can go. And that's what's so infuriating. If all goes to shit… she's really alone. Stuck here in the middle of… nowehere.

Dean continues to stand there, blindsided. He doesn't know why he's surprised at her venom, at her upset. But he is. He turns to find Téa back in the fireplace area and pacing.

"Y'know," he says, "you accepted the offer. I didn't force you into anything."

She stops pacing to glare at him, furious, knowing he's got her dead to rights. She has no comeback, no snappy sarcastic reply. No defense to his defense. Another silence falls but this one is deeper than all the others, as each of them realizes that they've come to a turning point of sorts, a crossroads.

Truths must be told about what has been, what is, and a decision must be made about what will be.

"Look," Dean says heavily, "I told you, I'm not gonna bullshit around with you. No secrets. This is a weird, super-fucked-up situation for BOTH of us." He notes the slight twitch in Téa's eyebrow at that. "It IS!" he protests. "What, you think I'm just perfectly comfortable with all this? Well I'm not! I don't know what to say to you or how to act around you or, or… ANYTHING!"

"You could have at LEAST been up front with me BEFORE I came across the Atlantic ocean! This 'no secrets' thing doesn't seem to go THAT far."

"Yeah, well, not to be a prick, but you kind of already knew how *I* made my living."

Téa's eyes flash and she hauls back, letting her hand fly, but Dean is quicker, catching her wrist before she can slap him. They stand there frozen for a moment, staring daggers at each other. Téa wrestles her arm out of his grip and pushes him away… then she half-laughs because she sees in his eyes… a _truth_.

"Holy SHIT," she says in a low voice, "what did you think was gonna happen here, huh? That I was going to dump my husband for YOU?"

And out it comes, plain and simple. Another silence fills the room, increasing the stress on both of them. Dean stands there, suddenly feeling like he's trapped under a hot spotlight. He feels the heat on his face, the rush of embarrassment and humiliation…"I don't know," he admits. "I don't know what I thought."

Téa lets out another halfhearted laugh.

"Uh-huh...this, coming from the man who doesn't want secrets, who 'doesn't have time to _bullshit around,_ '" she says, mocking his voice and making quotation marks with her fingers.

Dean takes the hit, looking down at the floor without a word.

Téa folds her arms as she takes a step toward him. "Well, if you pride yourself on HONESTY so damned much, why didn't YOU tell me about this _job_ of yours?"

"You were traumatized, Téa, distraught! When WOULD have been a good time to tell you about something so... ?"

She rolls her eyes, unmoved. "Serious? Outcome determinative?"

He drops his shoulders in seeming defeat. Then in a soft voice, a voice of… submission, he says, "Why can't you accept that I'm not out to get you? That I just want to help you?"

"Maybe it's because you're LYING," she says. "Maybe it's because you are _still_ that kidnapping bastard."

Now it's Dean's turn to shake his head and he laughs to himself as he throws his hands up. He moves slowly, step by step, in her direction. "Okay. Fine," he says. "You got me. This was all a BIG elaborate plan on my part." He moves another few steps closer to her, eyes bright and on hers. "I TRICKED you into coming out here, to the middle of nowhere, just so I could have my way with you. Just so I could fuck you…up, down and sideways, in every room of this godforsaken house, in every way imaginable."

Téa finds herself caught in his story, frozen in place, feeling physical heat coming off him like she's hasn't felt in a long time. Never… from him. It's unexpected. It's not him. She finds it hard to tear away from his pointed gaze, from the low-level intensity she has not seen in him before. It's… Todd… light. It's… distracting her from her upset.

She's not unmoved, not unaffected. She swallows visibly.

"I sprang the trap," he purrs, "and you fell right in. Oh, yeah, and I get off on torturing women with kids, and small animals, too."

Téa has backed up as he approached, her back against the wall. He's only a few inches from her face and his eyes have dropped their focus to her mouth. He stops and waits for a response, eyes back on hers…

He then shrugs.

"Did I miss anything? I mean, that's what you wanted to hear, right...what a monster I really am?"

Téa is silent. All she knows is that she's about to start crying and she isn't exactly sure why. She is significantly unbalanced.

"You want honesty?" he says quietly. "Fine, I'll give you all the honesty you want. Day after tomorrow, I'm gonna be providing cover and security for a crew pulling the biggest bank job London's seen in years. And IF nothing goes wrong and I DON'T die, my end should be somewhere around three and a half million...minus what I had to give up in order to get you here, of course. So IF nothing goes wrong, you'll be free to go wherever you want, with half a million in your pocket...and you'll never have to see me again."

Téa blinks slowly as those last few words sink in. Before now, it never occurred to her that he would have had to pay for her and the boys, that he had given up some of his promised take and was planning to give up more. Sidetracked by minutiae, she stammers, something she almost never does..."Well, I'll pay you back."

...and he steps back, scoffing, folding his arms. "I don't give a shit whether you pay me back or not! That's not the fucking point!" He's insulted. "Get it through your thick head, Téa Delgado _Manning_ , I don't WANT ANYTHING from you! It's not ABOUT that!"

She stares at him, feeling utterly lost, then she shrugs, her eyes misty. "Then what IS it about?"

That same heavy silence returns for a moment, before Dean sighs. Téa watches him try to form a sentence, a word, anything...but he can't seem to force it out so he just shakes his head and walks away from her, into the kitchenette.

"I already told you...I just want to help you. What ELSE do you want me to say?" he asks, leaning on the counter with his back to her.

Tea stares at him, through him, feeling his guilt and confusion or perhaps it's _her own_ guilt and confusion she's feeling.

Or perhaps...it's both.

"Honesty...no bullshit...no secrets. That's all I want," she whispers, as her tears fall, streaking down her face.

 _No secrets. No secret monster lurking behind the love, the passion… no demon ready to kill me or my children._

Dean shuts his eyes at that. He grips the counter with all the strength he has, trying to squeeze the anxiety out.

She sees him shaking his head so she starts walking toward him, slowly. She says, "I know I just said...there is no 'us.' But that's not really true, is it? In fact there better be an 'us' because I really need you invested in 'us' to make sure we'll be okay… me and my boys… if all goes… to shit."

Still no response…

Téa looks up, trying to keep from bawling outright, but the tears don't stop, so she gives in, letting them flow.

"Help me out here, please, because HONESTLY, on MY part, I'm so confused. I don't understand how this happened...and maybe you do. I don't understand why I feel so conflicted when it comes to you. I should HATE you. Todd hates you, RJ hates you…a lot of people… hate you."

He tilts his head, in agreement. A sad motion because he's never been hated. He was always a nice guy who happened to have a talent for being a thief, who happened to grow up on the wrong side of the tracks where morality was a little squishy because they were… poor.

 _Poor white trash._

She has moved close to him, now. Behind him now. He is leaning on the kitchen table and she thinks he's shaking with emotion or… something.

"I love Todd, I do. I've loved him ever since I met him. Loved him through every awful thing he's done and every awful thing we've been through. I loved him when I left...and right now, right this very minute...I love him." She stops for a moment, to wipe her face. "And that SHOULD be all there is to it, right?" she asks, shrugging at him even though he can't see her. "So...why am I crying right now? What am I so upset about? Why do my insides feel so...torn up?"

Dean's head turns at that, slightly and Téa takes a few steps closer.

"Ever since I got… rescued… from the kidnapping… every since you helped save me from those real thugs… I wondered where you were, what you were doing. Why? Why did I agree to come here? Why do I worry when you leave? And why am I so relieved when you come back? Why DON'T I worry when you're holding Evan or Brendan? And why..." She trails off as he finally turns around to face her. "Why am I so worried now...that something's going to happen to you?"

The heavy silence returns for a moment, then Téa shrugs, weakly. "Because I care about you," she finally admits. "I guess THAT'S why, to all of it."

Dean just stands there...but only because she's just managed to explain everything he's been feeling, too. Téa shuts her eyes after a moment, after enough time has passed for her to realize what she's just done.

"Ohhh...shouldn't have said that," she mutters as she covers her face.

Before he can talk himself out of it, Dean moves over to her. He takes her hands and gently eases them down. They get a good look into each other's eyes and they see each other, plain as day now, at their most vulnerable. _..no bullshit...no secrets._

Quickly...but not too quickly, Dean moves in and kisses her, cupping her face with his hands. Téa is surprised, but not. She freezes, sucking her breath in, and shuts her eyes, more from reflex than anything else…

... but she doesn't pull away.

Instead, she lets him linger and allows herself to feel it, that unique, intoxicating feeling one can only get from a real kiss that comes from the heart. It warms her, relaxes her, but deeply saddens her. She can imagine Todd in the distance… the real him, the him she loves… and she feels his sorrow as deeply as anything.

When Dean finally pulls back, he takes her breath with him, coming out in a soft sigh. He keeps his hands on her face, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs. Everything has just happened so fast, he almost doesn't remember doing anything.

 _Almost._

 _Oh, god...I just kissed her, didn't I...?_

He searches her face for a reaction. But all she does is stare at him for a moment, with a gentle openness in her wet eyes as well as sorrow. Stupidly, he remembers seeing pictures of Jackie Kennedy as a widow, and how beautiful she was, how attractive her devastation was. He's reminded. Now. His face softens at that and he's about to say something when she stiffens and pulls out of his grasp. Her unreadable reaction stops him from doing or saying anything and all he can do is wait, bracing himself.

Then, without a word, she turns and walks away from him. She opens the bedroom door and goes in, closing it behind her, without a hint of emotion, just a soft latch like any other night.

Like nothing had happened at all.

 **To be continued...**


	17. Chapter 17

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 17**

Roseanne sits on her cot in the dark, knees pulled up to her chest. She stares at the wall, blankly, unable to get Oba's warnings out of her head.

 _... jou are tainted. Jour spirit has mixed with his, and now...he lives in YOU..."_

 _"...I am warning you, cher, for your own good...LET IT GO. Because if you do not...jou WILL regret it._

She half-laughs at that, getting pissed all over again. Oba obviously thought that she was still powerful enough to influence her.

 _Right...I'm just a pet, a stupid little puppy that'll do whatever it's told. Well...not anymore._

She rests her head against the wall. Her cell has been stripped bare by the guards as punishment for breaking the rules. It doesn't feel like much of a punishment, though. In fact, Roseanne barely notices. Everything she needs now is inside of her so all the other stuff is just... _stuff_.

The hard clank of a baton hitting the bars makes Roseanne turn her head. Two of the guards stand there looking at her, with typically sour expressions.

"C'mon, let's go," one of them says.

"Where're we going?" Roseanne replies, unenthusiastically, and the guard cocks an eyebrow at her. "You have visitors."

Roseanne cocks an eyebrow right back. "What, NOW? Who?"

The guard rolls her eyes. "How the fuck should *I* know who they are? You gonna see them or not?"

Roseanne thinks for a second then shrugs. "I suppose," she says, as she stands up, lazily. The first guard whips out the handcuffs as the cell door slides open and the other guard stands at the ready with her baton. Roseanne watches the cuffs wrap around her wrists then each guard grabs one of her elbows as they lead her down the hall.

"Can you at least tell me if they're male or female?" she asks, as she shuffles along.

Both guards laugh before the heavier one one says, "We're guards, Delgado, not secretaries. You're lucky you're getting ANY visitors at all after the shit you pulled today."

Roseanne doesn't say anything else but she has to grin when the guards walk her past the visiting area, past the room where she and Todd had their last head-to-head.

"So...they fix the windows in there?"

"Not yet," the guard says, as they continue down the hall, stopping at another room. The first guard opens the door and steps in and the other guard pushes Roseanne inside. She trips into the room and turns to give the guard a dirty look.

"You got ten minutes and we'll be watching, so no funny business. That goes for ALL OF YOU," the pushy guard says, then both guards leave the room, shutting the heavy door.

Roseanne turns back and sees her visitors. She runs her tongue along the inside of her mouth as she looks them over. "Well, well, well...if it isn't my two favorite guys."

Todd and RJ sit at the lone table in the windowless closet of a room. They both wear all black, black shirts, black jeans, black coats. Both sport long hair and some variation of beard... but they couldn't be more different from each other. RJ is comfortable, limbs loose, arms folded in front of him. He is serious, patient, and ready to talk. Todd on the other hand is fixated on Roseanne, light eyes hard on hers, jaw visibly tight making it look like he's biting down to stop himself from talking. He rather reminds her of a German Shepard about to pounce. The only thing that says he's not in fact about to pounce is the way he's leaning back on the chair, legs spread and stretched in front of him. He's on a leash. Has to be RJ keeping him that way.

"Have a seat," RJ drawls.

Roseanne looks around and sees the video camera mounted in one corner, just below the ceiling. Everything will be seen in a room this small so she stays cool, walking to the chair and sitting down.

"Isn't it past your bedtime?" she asks, letting her cuffed hands rest in her lap.

RJ's straight gaze breaks up when he smirks, "Oh, I couldn't get through the night without seeing you, Rosie. Todd told me how CUTE you look in prison orange...I just HAD to see for myself."

She squints at him, throwing no love at him. She then eyes Todd who hasn't stopped staring at her. She cocks an eyebrow at him. "Aww, what about you? Didja miss me, baby? That why YOU back here so soon?"

Her voice is silky, dripping with a kind of sexual come-on that puts RJ on edge immediately. He looks at Todd again, unmoved and quiet, almost statue-like in his chair. RJ threatened him with his life on the way here so he is… behaving. RJ breathes in a tight breath, taking the lead as was decided.

"We here… 'cause of the missing wife and kids. Téa and those boys need to be found."

Roseanne flashes RJ a phony look of sympathy. "Yeah, I know, and I'm all broken up about that." She leans in, close enough for him to almost back up. Strange how he can _feel_ her even though she's nearly a foot away across from him. She says matter-of-factly, "...and from what I understand, from what I see, YOU'RE not the one Téa turned to. How sad for you. Not such a good friend to her after all."

RJ feels Todd's paranoid eyes on him. He resists the urge to look, though, leaning in himself, towards Roseanne, pushing into her energy.

"We're not here to talk about me," he snaps.

"Then what do you want?"

"Well, see, it's not really what *I* want 'cause if it were up to ME, we wouldn't even BE here," RJ replies, directing the comment more towards Todd than her. "But for some reason, Manning seems to think that YOU know where Téa is. I don't see how that's even possible, but he just wouldn't let up. So here we are."

"Really?" Roseanne says, looking back at Todd with a satisfied grin. RJ notices how intensely they stare at each other and he is not liking it one bit. Something is definitely going on between them. It's almost as if they're having a conversation. Code. He suddenly thinks back to the night when he found Todd drunk on his doorstep…

...with the hickey on his neck. As if…

 _Could Todd have seen_ Roseanne _that night? Had he been able to get to her here in the prison? Or am I looking at old pre-prison bullshit?_

RJ sits back in his chair, wondering if it's possible. He looks over at Todd and for the first time, Todd looks back at him with those intense eyes. RJ shakes his head at him, really suspicious now. On the verge of feeling duped.

"What?" Todd asks sharply.

R.J. doesn't answer though, looking away and laughing to himself in a pointedly _angry_ way. He sits back hard. He is THISCLOSE to walking out.

 _No. Not possible. This is a goddamn PRISON. There is NO WAY Todd got to Rosie inside. No way she got out and voluntarily returned._

 _This must be old bullshit. Musta happened right under Téa's nose._

 _Un...fucking...believable._

"Nothin', man," RJ says quietly. "Just ask her what you wanna ask and let's get the fuck outta here already."

Todd tries to get a look at RJ, but RJ keeps his eyes-and his anger-focused on some miscellaneous point on the floor.

Roseanne sees this and grins. "Uh-oh...I think he knows about us."

Todd's head whips over, his eyes flashing. "What did you say?"

"He KNOWS. Look at him...he's ready to punch you," she says, with a laugh...and at that, RJ suddenly looks at her.

"Oh, I'd punch **YOU** FIRST."

Roseanne laughs louder, nodding at his street-savvy coolness. "I BET you would! Too bad we're being watched, though, huh?"

RJ glares back at her, done with the games. "Do you know where she is or don't you?"

"Well...why're you asking ME? Seems like you already have SOME idea."

RJ tips his head back a little, poker-faced now, and Roseanne smiles.

"Aaaaah, I see YOU want to see if what YOU think jives with what *I* know, right? You want to trick it out of me." She raises an eyebrow, but RJ still doesn't say anything, so she sighs.

"Well...tell me what you know and I'll tell you if you're right."

RJ and Todd exchange glances and after a moment, RJ gestures for Todd to take the lead.

"London," Todd says in a gruff bark. "We think she's in London...with...HIM."

Roseanne makes an impressed face. "Interesting. How'd you come up with THAT?"

"None a'your business," RJ interjects. "So? What does the Wicked Witch of the East say?"

Roseanne laughs again at that. "You're so damned FUNNY, RJ, a fuckin' laugh riot." She leans in and rests her arms on the table. "I say...yes and no." She locks eyes with Todd's.

RJ is completely DONE. He stands up with a humorless, fed-up laugh. "I knew this was a waste of time." He starts to head for the door.

"No, wait," Todd says coolly, eyes still on Roseanne, and RJ whirls around.

"Man, this bitch is CLEARLY yanking our chains! Let's go...NOW!"

"What do you want?" Todd asks Roseanne, softly, and she smiles wide.

"Mmmm...I think you know," she whispers back.

Todd blinks at her slowly, with quiet understanding. "Do you REALLY know where she is?"

Roseanne nods. "I've been there already."

RJ walks back over at that. "Excuse me? How in the hell is that even POSSIBLE?"

Roseanne and Todd are still focused solely on each other.

"You have the right country," she says, "even the right city, sort of. But without the EXACT location, you'll never get to them in time. The London area is still an awfully big haystack to comb through."

Todd breathes deeply, shocked to find himself holding back tears of desperation. He closes his eyes, and rubs his hair back in a mad pull. He wants to kill her, just reach across the table and strangle the life out of her. Except she's holding all the cards. His pride goes down rough as he swallows it.

"Alright."

RJ looks at him. "Alright WHAT?"

Todd ignores him, leaning in close, and Roseanne leans farther in to meet him. "We'll take care of it," he whispers.

Roseanne smiles a sweet smile back at him.

Todd lingers on her face for a moment then quickly pushes back from the table. The chair screeches loudly as he stands up and heads for the door in long-legged steps.

RJ grabs his arm, pulling him in close, whispering loudly.

"Hold up just a goddamned minute. The fuck did you just do? Did we just AGREE to something?"

Todd looks at him, calm as can be _now_. "Yeah," he says, "We're gonna break her out."

RJ stares at him, shocked speechless, realizing too late that Todd knew what he was gonna do all along and didn't feel any need to let him in on it. RJ turns to the door, banging on it, too furious to say anything else.

Todd then looks back at Roseanne and growls, "You fuck with me and I'll kill you. Got it?" He's steely, cold, and Roseanne keeps her eyes on him until he's out the door.

Then she laughs, thoroughly pleased with herself.

* * *

RJ takes his anger out on the steering wheel of Todd's SUV, gripping the soft leather in his hands, twisting the hell out of it. He stares straight ahead because if he even _looks_ at Todd right now, he'll go right off the road. He can't remember a time when he was _this_ angry, though he knows he must've been at _some_ point. Just forgot what it was like, he supposes.

But it's all coming back to him now _. Ohhh, yes it is._ This kind of anger is what got him sent to Joliet prison. He drives fast and rough, hitting every bump on the abandoned secondary road that slices through miles and miles of open country before joining the highway.

So _THEY_ are going to bust Roseanne out. _THAT_ is Todd's big plan. Ten to one, he has no clue how he was going to go about it.

 _Well, why would he need to? That's what I'M here for, right? Fucker,_ he fumes, mouthing the word. He tries to understand the logic. He'd been trying to figure it out since they left. Hell, before that, even, way before. The past year had been a crash course in the school of Todd Manning and as RJ plows ahead, he seriously considers dropping out.

For his part, Todd is oblivious to RJ's foul mood. He sits in the passenger seat, reclined back, looking out the window, thinking only of Roseanne. Seeing her face, her big, brown eyes _...just like Téa's._ He blinks suddenly at that thought, like he's just waking up. Roseanne isn't like Téa at all _...no..._ not at all. Téa is... _everything_...whereas Roseanne is...

"Nothing," he whispers, unconsciously.

 _She's nothing and I'm gonna show her just how much of a nothing she really is,_ he then thinks with a sniff. He nods at that, his newfound resolve feeling good to him like fresh air. It wakes him up, snaps him out of the daze he's been in, and makes him forget that he misses his wife and children, at least for a while.

Yeah _,_ right now, it feels best to concentrate on Roseanne. It prevents him from looking inward too much, takes the edge off of his own smarting guilt. He sniffs again, finally looking at RJ like he just realized he was there. RJ's eyes are locked on the road with a stony concentration and all of a sudden, Todd feels the chilly anger coming off of him. He sighs, knowing why RJ's pissed at him but not really caring all that much. He knows what he's doing. He's determined to have his way, to give that little witch exactly what she's asking for and RJ is just gonna have to get over it.

Just then, the car bounces wildly as they hit a pothole in the road and Todd bounces with it, hitting his head on the roof.

"OW! FUCK!" he shouts, wincing as he grabs the top of his head, and glaring at RJ.

RJ _almost_ cracks up up at the obvious hurt Todd experienced... _almost_. He's too pissed off to laugh, really, but causing Todd physical pain right now makes him grin. He barely turns his head, as he glances over at him.

"Did you just say something?" he asks, dripping sarcasm.

Todd rubs the top of his head, still glaring. "You're an asshole. You wreck my car, I'll brain you," he snaps.

RJ does a half-laugh at Todd's sheer audacity. He continues to laugh to himself in a really, _REALLY_ pissed-off way for another half-mile or so, slowing down a bit.

Todd's glare finally narrows to a squint.

"What's so funny?" he grouses.

And it's then that RJ decides _...it's time._ He swerves hard to the right, pulling over to the side, and the truck lurches to a very sudden stop. RJ throws it into park and gets out, slamming the door so hard the truck shakes as if in an explosion.

Todd sits there, thrown off-guard, watching RJ walk around to his side. By the time he realizes he should lock the door, RJ's already got him by the coat lapels.

"C'mere!" RJ growls, through clenched teeth, as he drags Todd out of the car and tosses him down the small embankment.

Todd goes tumbling and RJ follows him, stepping with his heels to keep from slipping, watching Todd hit the bottom.

"Oohhhh...shit," Todd groans, having gotten the wind knocked out of him. He stays face down for a moment, trying to breathe, and hoping to god he didn't just fracture something. Then he slowly turns himself over…

...only to find the barrel of a gun in his face with RJ on the other end…

RJ watches with mild pleasure as Todd's mouth falls open. Obviously, he wasn't expecting _this._ RJ lifts his head a bit and says: "Well, how ya LIKE me NOW?"

Todd swallows hard, closing his gaping mouth. He takes a deeper, uncomfortable breath, and struggles to sit up. He raises his hands in surrender. "Whoa, hey...hey, man...what're you doin'?" He tries to sound calm in the face of that gun barrel.

"Me?"RJ says… _calmly_. "Oh, I jus' wanna say a few words, that's all."

"Well...you don't need...THAT," Todd replies.

RJ remains his usual unfazed self because of course, he has the fucking gun in his hand. In Todd's face.

"Oh, THIS," he says, giving the barrel a quick glance, "...is for AFTER that."

"After… the words."

"That's right. Now you gettin' me."

Todd's brows crease with definite concern. "What's gotten into you?"

RJ laughs again in that same pissed-off way, continually amazed at Todd's nerve...or cluelessness, whichever, and he shakes his head at him. "I'll tell you what's gotten into me. Some fuckin' SENSE, that's what."

Todd just blinks innocently, like this is all news to him.

"I'll give you this, man," RJ notes, "...you're good. You're REAL good. You had ME fooled. I bought that whole line you fed me back at the club...I let you DRAG me all the way out here in the middle of the night, just so you could have some face time with that witch!"

Todd gives him a confused look at the mention of Roseanne like he has _no_ idea what he's talking about. And RJ flicks his tongue against his teeth at that, not appreciating it.

"You know… Roseanne? Your GIRLFRIEND? The one you been putting it to behind your wife's back?!"

"She's not my GIRLFRIEND," Todd replies, instantly disgusted, as he starts to pull himself up, but RJ only flares up at him, his face contorting angrily.

"Ohhh, DON'T EVEN TRY IT, son! DON'T YOU EVEN try to lie to me right now, man! I will cap your ass RIGHT HERE AND NOW and don't you think I WON'T!"

He raises the gun as Todd stands and backs away, hands still up.

"RJ, just...calm down for a second, okay? SHE'S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND! I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"

Todd regrets the argument immediately as RJ swings his head to one side, with a terrible, fearsome look in his eyes...like he's getting ready to...

 **BANG!**

Todd's whole body locks up at the awful, echoey sound of the gun going off. The bullet hits the ground close to his feet, _WAY_ too close, kicking up a cloud of cold dirt and grass into his face.

"JESUS _CHRIST!_ THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Todd shouts.

"YOU!" RJ shouts right back, still aiming at his feet. "THAT'S what's wrong! YOU are SO WRONG, Manning, in SO MANY WAYS! Fuckin' CERTIFIABLE, man, how could you even THINK of doing that to Téa? What, did you just think she'd never FIND OUT?"

"Find out WHAT?" Todd yells back…

And RJ just shakes his head, finally dropping his tired arms to his sides.

Todd watches him closely, as he safeties the gun and starts pacing around like an impatient lion in a cage. "Find out what...hoh-ho-ho..." RJ mumbles to himself before turning back to Todd.

"You think I'm a chump, dontcha?"

"What? NO!"

RJ tips his head to one side, knowingly.

"Check your nose, Pinocchio...got a fuckin' TREE growin' out of it."

Todd throws his hands up at that, walking up to him. "Look...I don't know what you want me to say. But I'm NOT gonna say that that fuckin' bitch...is my girlfriend! I don't know WHERE you're getting that from! She is NOTHING to me! The only thing I'm interested in doing to HER is bashing her fuckin' head in."

He says this with a good bit of conviction and RJ nods in a kind of agreement on the sentiment...but isn't convinced.

"Oh, RIGHT, gonna bash her head in ...AFTER you fuck her. AGAIN."

Todd throws his hands up again, exasperated. "I DIDN'T-" he starts, unable to complete the sentence, growling instead like an animal. He then walks away and RJ follows him.

"I just wanna know who the hell you think you're dealing with here. When did I EVER give you the impression that I'm a chump?"

Todd turns back around at that. "I never said you WERE."

"Ohhh...WELL," RJ replies, brightening in a most exaggerated, sarcastic way, then immediately souring again. "You didn't HAVE to. You TREAT me like I'm a chump...thereFORE, you must THINK I'm a chump. YOU didn't think to let me in on this little idea that you OBVIOUSLY planned LONG before you got to the club tonight. Come to think of it, the LAST time you decided to go off on your own, you didn't think to let me in on THAT, either. You PUNCHED me."

Todd sighs, bothered. "I TOLD you I was sorry about that."

"I know. But see, the thing is, about apologies...you get to use that card ONE TIME. ONE!" RJ holds up a finger. "But if you just keep pulling the same shit over and over again, well, then...you're just a lying, manipulative snake. And if the person you keep pulling the shit ON doesn't take the hint after a while, then he...or SHE...is a doormat. A _chump."_

Todd's eyes narrow at the thinly veiled meaning. "You bashing Téa for being with me now?"

RJ glares right back. "No. I would NEVER disrespect her the way YOU do," he says, with a calmness that cuts Todd right down, knocking him speechless for a moment. RJ stares him down further for a second, then starts walking away.

Todd half-laughs to himself this time in total disbelief before following him. "Hold up...Gannon!" he calls, but RJ just keeps going, which pisses Todd off more.

"Get BACK here, man! Don't you fuckin' walk away from me!"

RJ stops, keeping his back to Todd for a second, thoroughly regretting having started this, though he understands it was unavoidable. It was bound to happen sooner or later. They HAD to find Téa and he would HAVE to team up with Manning to do it.

Todd straightens up tall when RJ finally turns around and the two men stare each other down for a moment.

RJ calmly sticks the gun back in his belt and folds his hands in front of him, waiting.

"What do you wanna say to me, Gannon? Let's do this."

RJ stares at him then glances away, thinking for a moment. He sighs heavily when he begins to talk.

"Y'know, in all the time I've known Téa, she ALWAYS stood up for you, ALWAYS. And when I didn't agree with her, she'd convince me. Because she talks about you with such..." He shrugs, looking for the right word. "...such love. Such honesty. She says what she means, and means what she says. So I'd always end up thinking, she MUST know what she's talkin' about. She's a smart woman, she knows what's what. So there MUST be a good side to you and it's just that SHE...is the only one who sees it."

Todd tips his head back a bit, taking the lashing calmly since RJ is being so calm himself. He glances down at his feet, then back up.

"So THAT'S the mode I've been workin' under all this time," RJ says quietly. "Even though YOU'VE shown me time and time again that you either CANNOT be trusted or you WON'T trust anyone else, whatever...I still stick by you. I back you up and bail you out every goddamned time because of Téa ...because of HER belief that you're the man she SAYS you are."

Todd tightens his mouth in guilt or sadness or _something_ and scans the darkness beyond RJ before eyeing him once again.

"So tell me," RJ asks, "...what IS it with you, man? Why can't you just take that love she's so willing to give you and just GET OVER YOURSELF?"

Again, Todd takes all that in and admittedly there's something very humbling about RJ's openness. It's almost enough to make Todd open up too...but not quite. His anger is too important to him right now. He doesn't want to lose it because if he does...he _WILL_ lose it.

 _No...no, no, I can't do this now...gotta stay focused…_

"It's always about Téa with you, isn't it?" he asks, letting his paranoia kick into gear, wanting it to, even. And RJ does a take at that, shaking his head and laughing to himself as Todd takes a few steps in toward him. "Do you even HAVE an opinion of me, Gannon? Do you even think AT ALL? Or do you just see everything the way TÉA wants you to?"

RJ holds his gaze as the space between them narrows, his fists balling up unconsciously, his patience just about gone. He's put the gun away but he wants it. Now.

"I mean, what do you think... that if you play the 'loyal friend' long enough, you'll eventually be rewarded with HER? Are you just waiting in the wings for the day I _really_ fuck things up so you can just...slip right in there? That your plan?"

RJ isn't having it and gets right in his face, baring brilliant white teeth. "Oh, I'd knock that shit off RIGHT NOW if *I* were you, man."

"Ahh...but you're not me. Never in a million fuckin' years, Gannon, could you POSSIBLY understand what it's like to be...ME."

Todd says this so quietly, so steadily, so… _sorrowfully_ that it _almost_ throws RJ off. But then he just nods, slowly...as if realizing something.

"Ohh look at you. You ALMOST had me. You did...I could almost FEEL that tortured soul you claim to have. But I SEE you now, man...oh, I SEE YOU...and I'll tell ya, it is one...UGLY...picture. No wonder Téa took off."

Todd steps up to him, nose-to-nose now. "You think I'm a liar? Degenerate? Amoral? Psychotic? Sociopathic? Bipolar? WHAT?!" he yells in RJ's face, daring him with an amped-up glint in his eyes, and RJ has to blink at the head-spinning shift of gears. They stand there in each other's space, glaring for a moment…

… then RJ lifts his chin a touch.

"Nah. *I* just think you're a stupid, lying cunt. THAT'S what *I* think...and I'll be DAMNED if I'm gonna help you now," RJ says this in a low and icy voice, and he gives Todd another downward glance…

… before hauling back and hitting Todd with a one-two punch, one to the gut, one to the face. Todd sinks down at the first punch, then flies back at the second, landing in the grass spread-eagled...

...and out cold.

RJ stands there for a moment looking down at him, flexing his hand and shaking it out. Then he turns on his heel and walks back to the truck, his long braids flying out behind him. He gets in the truck and starts it up…

He looks back at the field, unable to see Todd now. But he glares anyway and doesn't feel the least bit bad when he floors the gas and peels away, getting as far away from Todd as he can get.

 **To be continued...**


	18. Chapter 18

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 18**

Dean comes back inside, after smoking another cigarette. He shakes off the cold as he tosses his coat on the couch, glancing at the bedroom door. Still closed...still quiet. Téa hadn't made a sound for hours and neither had the babies. He chews on his lip, wanting to check on them...but afraid to.

He shuffles to the window, peeking out at another chilly, gray day. He checks his watch, realizing that he's going to have to leave soon for today's 'dress rehearsal' and a last-minute strategy meeting. He replays the kiss in his mind for the millionth time that morning. He can't quite believe it happened...that his deepest desire had somehow gotten past his reason and self-control and had forced itself out into the open. He shakes his head at that, half-regretting it again. Not the kiss itself which had been wonderful, beyond anything he'd imagined...

… but their... _relationship_... _there had better be an 'us'..._ had now become a hundred times more complicated.

 _Complicated...messy… a disaster waiting to happen._

Jesus, why the hell couldn't he control himself better. Téa made it perfectly clear that she still loves her husband. She'd only said it about ten times. She really should've stopped at the _I-love-Todd_ part but NO...she just had to keep going, she just HAD to say that she cared about _him_ the same way he cared about her.

He breathes out harshly, collapsing to the couch in an exhausted worn-out plop. Reality is an ugly thing.

 _What if she just wants to go home? What if all she REALLY wants is to go back to Manning? What're you gonna do then, Don Juan? Let her go? Or go twenty paces with the guy? Yeah, yeah, a duel. Fight over her handkerchief._

Dean slaps his hands over his face at that thought and falls back hard against the cushions. "I am such...a fucking… idiot!" he chastises himself, hands muffling the frustrated grunts.

After a moment, he hears soft voices coming from the bedroom. He looks over, listening, recognizing the twins' fussing noises. He turns his gaze back to the fireplace, watching the smoke from the burnt-out fire, curling up into the chimney. He braces for Téa's emergence with the boys and the undoubtedly cold shoulder he's going to get. But minutes pass and the babies keep fussing. He turns and looks at the door again, wondering what's up with them, and after another minute or so he gets up and puts an ear to the door. The boys are crying louder now but he doesn't hear Téa at all. He furrows his brow, concerned...then knocks on the door, softly.

"Téa? You okay in there?" he asks, but she doesn't answer. Dean's brow knits tighter and he actually starts to panic.

 _Oh, shit,_ he thinks as he grabs the knob and throws the door open. He looks at the bed... _empty_...then looks toward the crib. He sees the twins and, lying on the floor next to them, Téa.

He runs over, getting to the floor. He touches her shoulder. "Téa, can you hear me?" he asks, panicking, horrible thoughts rushing through his head _…_

 _God, she took something, pills or something. Oh fuck, why didn't I see this coming...?_

"Don't die...please don't die," he mutters, shaking her a little, as he tries to find a pulse in her neck.

"Oh, come on, don't you fuckin' do this… goddammit-"

Téa suddenly interrupts his ranting with a groan. She instinctively swats his hand away and Dean sighs hard with a head rush of relief.

"Jesus...are you alright?" he prods but she doesn't respond. She sniffs and tries to curl up in a ball. Dean stares at her for a moment, slowly realizing that she's just sound asleep. So tired probably that she can't even hear her own kids crying right next to her.

He looks at the boys who are getting unhappier by the second. He looks between them and Téa and knows what to do. Funny, how familiar he's become.

First job, get Téa to bed. He takes one of her arms and wraps it around his neck. She stirs a little as he scoops her up and carries her to the bed.

"Saved...me," she murmurs.

Dean looks down at her, noticing how she unconsciously rests her head on his shoulder.

"He...he scared them... saved me...carried me away..."

He realizes she's talking about _him,_ about that awful night in that awful place. He tries to set her down but she won't let go of him and he finds it hard to breathe all of a sudden with her face touching his.

"Téa, go back to sleep, okay?"

She makes a face in her sleep, reacting to the boys' crying. "My sons...I...have to protect them…"

"They're fine, I got 'em, it's okay. Go back to sleep," he replies, as he starts to peel her arm off of his neck.

She seems to get more distressed as he tries to separate and her eyes open but Dean knows she's not really awake. She's dreaming.

"No! You don't understand! Todd is coming and he's...he's so angry! He'll find us...he'll hurt them...like he hurt Starr..."

The words catch his attention. _Like he hurt Starr…_

 _Oh, christ,_ he thinks, _that's it._ Manning did something to the little girl, something that scared the shit out of Téa ...and _THAT'S_ why she was so desperate to leave. He shakes his head at that, then whispers, "Hey...listen to me. Everything's fine, okay? Nobody's gonna hurt you guys here," and it seems to calm her.

She breathes deeply, allowing him to put her down. When she feels the soft bedding, she grabs for a pillow and hugs it, settling in. Dean pulls a blanket up over her and sits down on the edge, watching her for a moment, to make sure she goes back to sleep. Then, without even thinking about it, he leans over… and smooths her hair. He is suddenly tempted to kiss her, to kiss the top of her head... but he doesn't. He lingers on her for another moment, sleeping sound and peaceful.

He turns his attention to the crying kids and shushes them as he picks up one, then the other, with some difficulty, balancing a baby on each shoulder, chuckling at the stereo crying in his ears as he walks out with them.

* * *

Téa opens her eyes some time later and is immediately struck by the silence. She picks her head up, listening, but everything is still. She sits up, yawning, looking at the crib, worrying as she throws the covers off and gets out of bed. It's been hours and hours since she fed them last.

But the kids are fine in their crib. She sees their chests working away, their eyes and fingers twitching occasionally. She reaches in and touches them both, checking for...well, just checking.

 _Nice and warm… not too warm… just… fine._

She wonders how they managed to sleep all this time without a bottle or a change. She rubs the back of her knotted neck, as she walks into the living room. Dean's gone... _of course…_ his coat and bag missing from the chair. She shuffles to the front door and opens it, getting a blast of cold air in the face as she looks around. She closes the door and turns to see the twins' seats on the couch. She does a take at that, slowly realizing that Dean had the boys out here with him at some point. Then she looks toward the kitchen and sees two bottles on the counter, half-full...and a folded piece of paper standing up on its edges. A note that has _Téa_ written on it.

She walks to the kitchen, biting her lip as she looks at the bottles, chastising herself for having the gall to sleep. She picks up the paper, unfolding it.

 _I fed the kids-tried my best to change them, but I've never changed a diaper in my life. Sorry if I did it wrong. And I'm sorry about last night-we really need to talk when I get back. D_

 _Last night,_ she thinks, remembering everything all of a sudden, everything she said, everything he said.

 _There better be an "us."_

She touches her lips, remembering the feel of his there, how good it felt...and how terrible. She'd gone into the bedroom and sat with the boys, crying until she passed out. Guilt rushes through her and she crushes the paper in her hand, ashamed of herself all over again. She walks back into the bedroom and falls on the mattress, eyes locked to the ceiling.

 _"...day after tomorrow, I'm gonna be providing cover and security for a crew pulling the biggest bank job London's seen in years..."_

Téa shuts her eyes at that memory, and at realizing that her time has run out. She'd used it all up, the time, the space she _thought_ she so desperately needed. After tomorrow, she wouldn't be able to hide here anymore. She and the boys would have to leave with nothing accomplished, no conclusions reached, no decisions made.

She chastises herself again, for her laziness, her indecisiveness. For being a bad mother, a lousy wife...and for letting things go this far.

She rolls onto her side, facing the crib, staring through the netting at the boys. The desire to go home consumes her all of a sudden, the desire to see Todd again, to be with him, to repair the damage. She closes her eyes for a moment, letting a few tears leak out as she remembers that morning, when they all sat on the floor of the penthouse and were just…

...happy.

 _Seems so long ago,_ she thinks. She thinks of Starr, wonders if she's all right. If Todd has tried to talk things over with her, explain to her, apologize. Téa sniffs as she sits up, wiping her face, her last words to him running through her head.

 _Get outta here, Todd. Just go. Let her calm down...and then we'll deal with it._

But they didn't deal with it. Instead, they both fell back into the old pattern of retreat-and-avoid.

She looks down at her sleeping boys...so trusting...trusting her to take care of them. Trusting Todd, too. The boys trust them both to get their shit together and be the good parents they promised they would be. But try as they might, they just couldn't seem to _hold_ it together. Something always wormed its way in, pushing and pushing until they broke apart. The same old something...

...fear.

Her fears had manifested themselves as the demon, the black-coated monster haunting her dreams, driving her to kidnap her own kids. She sort-of laughs to herself with a truly sad irony, realizing now, and only now, what Todd must've been feeling every time he ran with Starr all those times. When he ran _from_ her.

Fear controlled his actions then, just like it's controlling hers now.

Splinters of memory and dreams flood her mind, all at once, in a painful wave…

 _"Here I am, my babies. Here I am. Papa loves you ... don't be afraid, don't be afraid to sleep..."_

 _"...get outta here, Todd…"_

 _"...she got into my things...MY THINGS...they're mine! I OWN THEM! THEY ... ARE ... MINE!"_

 _"...NO! Leave us ALONE!"_

 _"...don't bother calling for her...she can't stop me. Now open this door!"_

 _"...MOM! MOMMY! HELP US!"_

 _ **"...THEY...ARE...MINE!"**_

Téa sees bloodstains on palm trees, the broken bodies of her sons, Todd leaving them behind, blood dripping from his hands…

And she sees herself, trapped, screaming, helpless to stop it from happening.

She lets out a hard breath, covering her eyes, knowing that these images, these fears, would never leave her. The demon would be present throughout their lives, lurking under the surface, just waiting for Todd to fall asleep on the watch. It is the constant in her life, the cost of loving him.

So the only question is...what will she _do?_

 _Do,_ she thinks, a word that means _action_. Just repeating the word in her mind, seems to alleviate that awful sense of hopelessness that plagued her, powerlessness.

 _What will I do? DO something...yes...I CAN do something._

She paces the floor, suddenly restless with new energy. Would she allow fear to dictate her actions for the rest of her life… and her childrens' lives? Would she rather live without Todd? Would that really be _protecting_ them? Would that really be the _best_ thing for all of them?

"No..." she whispers to herself, realizing the futility of running, hiding. All those times she tried to stop Todd from doing the same thing, she never really understood what it was he was going through.

Now though...now she knows, and it awakens her motivation. Her life, their lives, have been like a runaway carriage barreling right for a cliff. Neither of them have been brave enough to do what needed to be done and though it might very well be too late now, Téa suddenly feels as if she's finally gotten the courage to reach out and grab the reins.

She stops at the crib again, looking in on her baby boys, and she smiles, knowing what she has to, what she needs to do.

* * *

RJ speeds along in Todd's truck, his overly fancy SUV, hauling ass back the way he came, swearing at the top of his lungs.

"GOD...DAMMIT! STUPID-ASS LYING SONOFABITCH!"

He goes on like this for some time, then resorts to just plain growling as he tires. He catches a glimpse of the speedometer, reading eighty-five, and finally eases up on the gas a little. His breathing slows along with the car and after a few moments, he feels his blood cooling a bit...but not much.

Truth is, he'd come that close _… thatclose…_ to pulling the trigger and blowing Todd right out of the universe. And it surprises him a little, knowing that he wouldn't have felt _that_ badly about doing it, about cold-ass killing him on a hill. In fact, as he continues to drive along, he wishes he'd at least beaten on him some more. In RJ's mind, Todd deserved it just for having the gall to lie about Roseanne, not to mention what he deserved for actually _sleeping_ with the skanky little witch.

He shakes his head, still mind-boggled by _THAT. How could he even THINK about doing that? Especially with HER! And then to just EXPECT me to go along with busting her out, without even mentioning it...ohhhh...MAN…_

...the new string of hateful thoughts starts RJ's blood boiling all over again, bringing a nasty headache along with it. A gas station appears as he comes over a rise in the road and he pulls in, shutting the truck off abruptly, hitting the back of the seat as it lurches. He rubs the knotted muscles between his eyes, and suddenly worries for Téa and her kids, more than ever now. And he shakes his head again, with a whole new understanding of her logic…

… that maybe running from Manning wasn't so skewed after all. His cell phone starts ringing then, making him jump a bit. Then he huffs at the contact, reluctantly answering.

"What?" he says, quietly but still clearly annoyed.

"Gannon? That you, mate?"

RJ lets out a tired sigh, "Yep." He's happy to hear the British accent, hoping like hell the guy has info on Téa. But he's tired. Real goddamn tired.

The man on the other end laughs a little. "Havin' a bad day, yeah?"

"You could say that."

A pause, then a matching sigh on the other end. "Well, I hate to do this to ya...but it's about to get worse."

RJ rolls his eyes. "Why...what'd you find out?"

"Well, nothin'. That's the problem. I HAD a good line on a few blokes who were supposed to be workin' that job...I was about to go find them, see if they knew where your man was. But just today, poof...bastards've up and vanished on me."

RJ rasps in aggravation, "So what do you think that means?"

"Probably what YOU think it means."

"Job's about to go."

"That would be my guess, yeah."

"Shhhhit," RJ hisses, dropping the phone for a second, thinking, then he picks it back up. "So you have NO idea where Shelton could be hiding?"

"Nah, sorry, mate. I checked and he's not in any of the places I know of. And if he's out in the country, there's no way I'd find him in time."

A long silence the man speaks again. "Sorry, Gannon...I don't think there's anything else I can do for ya on that one."

RJ sighs again. "Yeah. Okay, thanks, man, thanks for letting me know."

"Still comin' across?"

"OH hell yeah, I'm DEFINITELY still coming, so y'know not off the hook yet."

The man laughs. "Well, ring me when you know what's what then, yeah?"

"Yeah, alright," RJ replies, about to hang up...then he thinks of something. "Hey, wait..."

"What, mate?"

"How long before the job goes, you think?" he asks, listening to the man's hmm-ing and ha-ing. "Not long, less than a day, I'm sure."

RJ shuts his eyes at that, nodding. "Yeah...that's what I thought. Alright...later, man."

"Ta," the man replies, then hangs up, leaving RJ sitting in the car, tapping the phone on the steering wheel, thinking at a furious pace.

If the bank job was only hours away, finding Shelton-and finding out where he'd stashed Téa-was going to be nearly impossible. And on top of that, Shelton would probably be leaving the country by tomorrow and Téa would probably leave with him.

The thought brings up another surge of frustration and RJ gets out of the car, slamming the door, storming away, cursing again. His only options become terribly clear in his mind as he walks: either get on a plane and try to find them alone, with no idea where to look…

… or…

He stops, dropping his head back.

"MotherFUCK," he groans.

 _Please, God, no...don't make me do it…_

He prays for clarity, sense, the _right_ path forward, but has the sinking feeling that the other option…

...is the _ONLY_ option.

Roseanne _SAID_ she had the location and even though RJ doesn't trust her, he knows he can't take the chance that she's actually telling the truth.

 _God...DAMMIT...motherFUCK,_ he curses again, growling like an animal. Then he takes the phone out of his pocket and dials.

* * *

Todd walks a lonely unlit road miles from the prison, miles from a gas station or any commerce open to strangers. His hair hangs, stringy, swinging, strands in his expressionless face, as he slams down one black boot after another, following the center yellow line. His coat swings about his legs, the coat open, cold cooling his tight muscles and the hate coursing through him. His shoulders are broad and his chest is hard from years of battle with the world.

He is a dark, shadowy creature walking a deserted road and the moon is his only fit companion, the stars mere witnesses. He looks up, looking for the face that hides in the sunlit craters and mountains, God maybe, knowing all of that...

… is just bullshit.

 _Fucking fantasy._

A cell phone's computerized, tinny ringing disrupts the forward momentum. Suddenly, he's just a guy whose car got stolen instead of a ghost haunting the open fields.

Instead of the monster he knows he is.

He stops walking, digging in the coat pocket with one hand, and rubbing his sore jaw with the other.

"You better be on your way back here," he says immediately, knowing who it is.

"Oh, fuck you, just FUCK...YOU," RJ fires back. "You're lucky I didn't kill ya'."

Todd chuckles darkly, a thread of uncertainty in it. He might actually have to walk the rest of the way and it infuriates him even more than he already is.

"You're NOT leaving me here," he grumbles, but it's actually a command and when RJ rewards him with silence, Todd yells the rest of his sentiments.

"Gannon...answer me, goddammit! GET BACK HERE! You can't just take off in MY fucking ride and LEAVE ME HERE!"

"Keep runnin' your mouth, man, and that's EXACTLY what I'll do."

Todd's shoulders tighten at that knowing he's got the lesser hand. So he bites his lip, waiting, hearing RJ grunt angrily on the other end.

"Look, just tell me...do you think Roseanne REALLY knows where Téa is?"

"Yeah, I do."

RJ pinches the bridge of his nose, rubs his beard hard. He leans against the car. "Well, tell me THIS...do you even have the VAGUEST idea HOW you're gonna get her outta there?"

"Yeah...check the back."

RJ makes a face at the implication that Manning knew all along this was going to happen. _You fucker._ He turns his head toward the back seat. Nothing. Must be all the way back. He reaches under the steering wheel and pops the rear door.

He walks around.

Todd shifts on his feet as he waits, listening to rustling noises on the other end. Eyes on the road's yellow line.

RJ narrows his dark eyes when he notices the floor in the back of the SUV is covered with a dark, army-style blanket. He swallows hard before lifting it up, and his eyes nearly pop out of his head when he does.

"Fuuuuuck..." he whispers.

"Think that's enough?" Todd replies, flexing his sore jaw.

"Jesus, where'd you GET this shit? Wait, nevermind...I don't wanna know."

RJ touches the dark steel of one of the pistols lying there under the blanket. He's not an expert in weapons so doesn't know what kind these are. He sees another small case and he opens it up to find a slew of darts, neatly arranged inside.

"Hold on...darts?" he asks, quickly putting the case away and throwing the blanket back over the floor.

"Well, yeah...they're loaded with Ketamine or one of those other drugs vets use. SHOULD be, anyway."

RJ closes the trunk door and leans back, rubbing his face roughly. A long silence passes between them before Todd asks quietly, "So, you gonna help me with this or what?"

RJ shakes his head. "I know what I SHOULD do. I should hang up this phone, drive my ass to the airport and get on the first plane...go look for 'em myself...and leave your stupid, crazy ass behind."

Todd shuts his eyes at that. "Gannon, please...I love Téa. You have to believe that...and I love my kids. Roseanne's a troll who deserves to die, absolutely. But she KNOWS where they are, I know she does. She's our ONLY chance of finding them...I'm TELLING YOU."

He says this calmly, covering his real desperation, his ugly hate and fear roiling inside of him. He holds his breath over the long pause.

RJ finally says, "Well, I still don't believe it. But my source in London's hit a wall, so...it looks like Rosie IS the only option we have now."

Todd shuts his eyes again, this time out of relief. "So you're coming back, then?"

"Looks that way...but let's get one thing straight right now. I'm doing this...for TÉA, NOT FOR YOU...and I really don't care WHAT you think of that or me. WE...are NOT FRIENDS. You fucked that up royally so don't even THINK of giving me shit. I will put the hurt on you so bad you'll WISH I'd killed you."

With that, RJ hangs up, not even giving Todd the chance to say anything. Then he gets in the truck and pulls out, turning around and going back...hoping to god the whole way, that he's not making the biggest mistake of his life.

 **To be continued...**


	19. Chapter 19 - WARNING

**Note from author: WARNING: This contains EXTREME VIOLENCE. If you are sensitive, skip this.**

 **ART OF THE DARK - PART 19**

Téa holds her coat closed as she stands in front of the cottage. Her teeth chatter a bit, but not too badly. She's been inside all day hanging out with the boys, so the chilly air actually feels nice. It wakes her up. She breathed in the earthy air as she looks up at the sky that's changing color as the sun goes down.

And she realizes that this is the first time she's seen _any_ color in the sky at all. England's sky seemed to have only two shades...light gray and dark gray. She grins a bit at the muted golden highlights on the clouds, hiding the sun that's still trying to poke through, even though it's on its way down. She looks away finally...turning her gaze back to the road. She follows the dirt path with her eyes, the path disappearing into the shadowy grove of trees that hides the cottage from the main road. She shifts feet in the crunchy gravel...waiting. Waiting for _him_...waiting like…

… like a wife. She is a wife waiting for hubby to come home so they can have a nice dinner. Suddenly, she feels as if she's in a black-and-white, fifties-era sitcom, wearing one of those ridiculous dresses the housewives used to wear then, all puffed up with a zillion crinolines. Pretty, but impractical as hell _…_

… _and God knows I'm so VERY practical._

She wipes her nose, pulls her hair back before letting it fall back in place, all the while pacing back and forth. She isn't even sure what she's going to say to him but he was right when he said in the note that they needed to talk. They need to figure things out and that's exactly what they are going to do. No more stalling.

The image of the two of them kissing flashes in her head and she stops, looking down at her feet, ashamed. She bites her lip hard, not even sure what to think about it anymore. It was wrong, of course, she knows it but she also has to admit to herself that it felt really good.

She liked it.

 _And what does that MEAN, exactly...?_

Could she really be angry with Todd now when it seemed that she couldn't control her _own_ behavior? Was it fair? Where does _she_ get off, passing judgment on anyone when she kisses the man who kidnapped her for ransom?

 _He saved me._

She breathes out harshly, not wanting to run through her radio playlist, the top ten reasons why she should hate Dean. She knows them all by heart but the fact remains, that for better or worse, their association has become a relationship. He cares about her, and she cares about him. They have a mutual interest in a safe outcome, a mutual interest in survival.

 _Yep...that's a relationship, alright._

All kinds of wrong and fucked-up-ness in the _care_ part, but a relationship nonetheless.

The distant sound of an approaching car distracts her from her thoughts and she watches the road. Soon enough, Dean's car clears the trees. He pulls past her, parking in the usual spot behind the cottage. Téa listens as he gets out, bags and things rustling, then the car door shuts and his footsteps get louder.

"Hey, you okay?" he asks with a genuine quality that _affects_ her.

She offers a slight smile and a nod, not wanting to be… _affected._ "Yes, everything's fine."

Dean lets out a relieved breath, "Oh...well...what're you doing out here? It's cold."

"I, uh...I was waiting for you," she says, quietly.

Dean nods warily, starting to talk,

"Look, Téa-"

She puts a hand up, interrupting him, and takes a step toward him, looking at him with sparkling brown eyes, light reflected there that makes her seem more alive tonight, more awake.

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out, so she laughs a little, clearing her throat before starting again. "Umm...I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, that I just left you standing there last night. I really am. I just...I didn't know what to do and I guess I was...afraid."

He does a take at that, surprised that she's not angry with him but she puts up the hand again.

"Look, you're right, this is all just so… foreign. And I don't know how to deal with it. Do you?"

Dean shrugs, shakes his head. Téa nods back.

"Well. I guess this is one of the many things we need to figure out tonight, huh?" she says, and he smiles.

"Yeah...but can we eat first, though? Fuckin' starving."

He says it so easily, so calmly, that Téa actually laughs. It's relieving, like she didn't know such a laugh still existed inside of her. She's a teenager happy to know the bad dream was just a bad dream. But that's not true, is it? Because the bad dream is still happening. She nods and smiles which makes him smile wider.

"C'mon," he says, turning to go inside, gesturing for her to lead him. She walks ahead and feels a light, familiar touch of his hand on the small of her back.

* * *

A couple of hours later, dinner's finished and the two of them sit on the floor in front of the hearth, near each other but not close enough to touch, backs against the couch. They stare at the flame in silence, watching its nightly show. Dean takes a swig from his beer, feeling surprisingly relaxed.

This evening, the feel of it, has been so different from all the others. The awkwardness is still there, but for some reason, he feels as though he could say anything to her without having to fear her reaction. He _could…_ but he's still hesitant to be the first to break the silence. He looks at her anyway, moving slightly so he can face her.

Téa stretches and gathers her legs under her, still gazing into the fire.

"Okay...so," he starts.

"Yeah...so," she replies.

"Ummm...well," he stutters, not actually sure where to start so he decides to play it safe and stick to the technical. "Tomorrow...tomorrow, you need to pack up and you need to be ready to go as soon as I get back. And I mean the SECOND I pull up, okay?"

Téa nods her understanding, and Dean nods too.

"Alright," he says, "Now, I, uh...I don't mean to push you, okay...but I need to know. What're you gonna do?"

There's a calm directness in his tone that she appreciates because there's no judgment in his voice, no manipulation, no… monster lurking in the kindness. He just wants a sense her plans, her wishes.

 _Are you staying with me or are you going home? Is there an "us" beyond today?_

She doesn't get a chance to answer. From the bedroom, the sound of one of the twins crying demands her attention. Téa pulls herself up off the floor.

"Be right back," she says, getting up and moving toward the bedroom.

Dean rubs his face then gazes back at the fire as he finishes his beer. He can hear Téa shushing the baby, speaking softly and moving around.

"Dean..."

Her voice snaps him back, and he looks over at her, standing in the doorway with Evan on her shoulder. She bounces with him as he cries, giving Dean a weak smile.

"Could you...umm..." She laughs a bit, with a shake of her head. "Can you do me a favor and warm up some bottles for me? Please? They're both soaked and I need to change them."

Dean does a slight take, surprised by her actually asking him to help her. "Oh, yeah...yeah, sure."

"Thanks," she says, watching him go right for the stuff in the kitchenette, mixing the formula without even having to ask her how. Like a pro, like he'd been doing it all his life. Téa lingers on him then walks back into the bedroom, shushing Evan some more.

Dean goes about the business of cooking bottles, actually whistling, without even realizing it. Things had become _that_ routine, _that_ comfortable. He tests the formula on his hand, just like he'd done this morning then he walks over to the bedroom door and stands there in the doorway, waiting for her to notice him. He watches her from behind, listening to her sing softly as she changes the kids lying on the bed.

"Here you go," he finally says and she turns around, giving him a small smile.

"Thanks," she says then looks down at the boys, both extremely fussy and hungry. It was going to be hard to feed them both herself. She sighs, realizing she needs more help, reluctant in her need, and turns back to Dean, gesturing for him to come in. Dean cautiously steps over the doorsill into her space. She picks up Evan, grabbing one of the bottles as she hands the baby to Dean who stares at her, confused.

"Well...you shouldn't have done such a good job this morning," she says…

… and he laughs, nodding. "Ohhhkay. I got it. C'mere, you."

He takes Evan from her, shifting him around and letting him taste the bottle which Evan grabs and latches onto immediately. Téa picks up Brendan and sits down on the bed with him as she gives him the bottle. She watches her oldest boy gulp down his dinner for a moment. She looks up at Dean, who has Evan well in hand. He grins at the baby, like anybody would, then he catches her looking at him. She smiles, then tips her head, gesturing for him to sit down beside her.

Quiet time passes, as they sit together on the bed, each taking care of one baby. The boys simmer down, falling back to sleep now that their tummies are full and their butts are dry. Téa finally stands up with Brendan, kissing his head as she walks slowly to the crib, moving him through the air and gently setting him down. The baby stirs, but stays asleep. She then turns to see Dean right next to her, doing the same thing with Evan. He sets him down successfully, then straightens up with pride which Téa notices. She flashes an exaggerated look of being impressed.

He turns to her, noticing _her_ noticing and mockery.

"Oh, gimme a break," he says, sitting back down on the bed. "I clearly have a natural gift."

Téa stifles a laugh as she reclines at the top of the bed, grabbing a pillow and cuddling it.

"Oh god...I get so tired at night," she says, yawning.

"Can't imagine WHY."

Téa chuckles and rubs her cheek against the pillow, her eyelids getting heavy. "Ohhh...this may have been a bad idea. I can't possibly get up now."

Dean laughs a little at that, watching her drift off. She looks so comfortable that it starts to make _him_ sleepy. He catches himself, though, shaking himself awake but Téa is obviously too far gone, so he leans over to her.

"Hey...still with me?"

"Mm-hm..." she mumbles, barely awake. She opens her eyes, but only manages to give him a half-lidded look. She stares at him, then furrows her brows.

"Ohhh...right...tomorrow..."

"Yeah," he confirms, getting drawn back in by her sleepy face. He props himself up on one elbow as she settles in, fluffing the pillow under her head.

"I did want to thank you for this morning," she says, yawning again, and closing her eyes.

"Any time," he says, unable to stop himself from yawning, too. He tries to stay awake except he's lulled by Téa's peaceful face, the even, rhythmic sounds of her breathing, and just the overall quiet and warmth of the cottage. Before he knows it, he's sunk down into the bed, facing her, fast asleep.

* * *

The morning alarm sounds, its industrial, screeching noise bouncing off the walls, the echo making it that much louder. Roseanne opens her eyes, already awake. The butterflies in her stomach kept her up all night, so she spent the whole time going over her plan again and again, making sure she wasn't forgetting anything.

She stands with a sigh, stretching tall as she turns toward the cell door and waits for it to slide open. She finds herself thinking about Todd, in a most unusual, girlie kind of way. She goes with it, figuring this is mere euphoria at having him where she wanted him. In the palm of her hands. Todd Fuckin' Manning is about to set her free from prison, Mister Millionaire Newspaper Mogul is about to _break_ her out.

 _Who'd a' thunk it?_

Rosie giggles almost hysterically at the power such a thing would take. She made this happen. She set him up. She controlled him. Hell yeah! The continued manipulations will be equally as _fun_. Once she gets the little family together… her revenge will be delightful.

This must be why she's feeling youthful feelings of infatuation, flying with it like…

 _Like a bat out of hell._

But it's more than the manipulation. She remembers how he'd been looking at her just a few hours earlier and it makes her sigh again, dreamily. He did have the most penetrating greenish-brown eyes, the kind you could really get lost in. And when she looked at him last night, she felt their connection growing in intensity, a real sense of feedback.

 _Yeah, just like that, come closer to me. Touch me._

It was as if he'd tapped right back into her and now they were feeding off each other, drawing energy from the same source. It was new, strange, and once again, so very intoxicating to be connected with another demonic soul.

 _We are bonded, bound. What an exciting game we play._

She grins as the buzzer blares again, and the doors slide open. She steps out onto the balcony, automatically turning and walking with the other prisoners toward the mess hall. And as she shuffles along in line, she decides to try something.

She takes a deep breath and stares ahead, zoning out to a point in space… thinking, focusing, broadcasting, using the air as a carrier for her thoughts, her energy.

 _Can you hear me, lover? Are you really coming for me… or were you just playing with me last night...a little mouse to your cat?_

She breathes deeply again, turning inward and listening, as she gets in the mess line. Her body moves on autopilot…

… her hands reach out and pick up a tray, her legs move her down the line, even though she's not telling them to do anything.

She concentrates hard, imagining herself turning the dial on a radio, trying to find the right frequency, trying to pick up the signal.

 _Talk to me, Todd, answer me, hellish lover of mine_

Suddenly, an image flashes in her mind, bright and loud, that of a car. No...a truck...no...an SUV. It's big, expensive, with all the works of the most luxurious edition, black interior, black exterior, _all black,_ with two men in it. Hard rock music plays, _Man in the Box,_ she knows the song, catchy guitar riff but neither man bobs or bumps, _feed my eyes, can you sew them shut, he who tries will be wasted, won't you come and save me._ On and on but neither bobs or bumps. It's Todd and RJ, she realizes and they're on a road, a country-like road with open fields like the one she saw on the way to the prison. _Mygod_...it _IS_ the road to the prison.

 _Won't you come and save me?_

Before she can decipher more, see more, she hears words directed at her.

 _Oh, I'm comin' alright...comin' to get you…_

"Ohmygod," she whispers unconsciously, blinking rapidly, feeling a sharp wave of nausea and a new awareness…

… that someone _else_ is in her head.

A flood of feelings, emotions and thoughts that aren't hers all channel through her at once. It's dark, cramped, riotous, jaw-grinding intense...and absolutely _mixed-up_. There's no joy, no excitement, not at all. This _other_ is fighting something, fighting it bad.

Roseanne begins to hyperventilate in some sort of sympathetic stress _and_ her very own stress. All the power she _thought_ she had, the euphoria of getting into someone else's head, has slipped a little.

Another thought slams into her, a near-physical shot, and she nearly drops the tray.

 _...and you better be ready for me, bitch._

Roseanne gasps at that, the complete thought slapping her face, knocking the side of her head, the identity of this _other_ clear and incontrovertible. She does drop the tray and falls to her knees, the tray pinging loudly on the floor, her breakfast flying everywhere. All conversation in the room stops and all heads turn to look at Roseanne on the floor, trying to catch her breath. A couple of guards immediately swoop down on her, yelling at her to get up, threatening to beat her if she doesn't.

But she barely hears them, as her connection with _Todd_ drowns out everything else.

 _Ooooh pretty girl with the big brown eyes...can YOU hear ME? Can you FEEL me?_

Roseanne looks at the floor as if it were Todd, eyes wide with disbelief, fear flooding her, a kind of submission. Oba was right.

 _Your spirit has mixed with his and now he lives in YOU._

"Yes," she whispers, fighting the sensations, "I hear you."

 _Where do we find you?_

She swallows hard, as the guards pull her up off the floor. Roseanne looks at them both, and as she apologizes, saying she slipped and fell, she thinks:

 _Loading dock...rear loading dock_ …

And she regrets it. But it wasn't anything she could stop. The words just happened. The telling of where she'd be just popped out for his benefit. She gathers her strength, forces herself to stand up, because this isn't right. _She's_ the one in control here, _she's_ the one with the power, she's the one holding all the cards.

Except maybe… maybe… she's not.

One of the guards tells her she's going to have to clean up the mess, and forget about breakfast. Roseanne feels a mop getting shoved into her hand and a hard push to her back; but it's as if she exists in two different places now. She's aware of what she's doing, she knows she's in the mess hall, mopping the floor...but at the same time, she's not there at all.

 _Remember what I told you..._

She bites her lip in a bit of worry, remembering _exactly_ what he'd said.

 _You fuck with me and I will kill you._

She has to take the warning more seriously now that he's found his way into _her_ head. And so strongly. The air settles down around her, dropping her back into reality. Her head clears and she looks around at all the prisoners looking at her.

So she tries her best to calm herself down, to put her insides back in their rightful places as she mops the floor quickly, looking at the clock. Fifteen minutes left. After that, she'd be on laundry detail and then...she'd be free.

Or would she?

* * *

"You DO realize...we have no idea WHERE she's gonna be," RJ says, as he slows down, pulling off the road. Todd stares straight out the windshield, looking at the prison buildings ahead with a strange expression.

Todd can't quite explain what just happened a second ago. He was thinking of Roseanne, thinking a whole lot of revenge, damage, in the dark way that still lived and breathed inside of him. Thinking it hard and real.

Then all of a sudden, he heard Roseanne talking to him, clear as day...and he knew where she was going to be because she told him. She just _told_ him _._

 _How is that even possible...? And how is he going to explain this to ..._

"Man, are you zoning on me again? Hel-LO!" RJ says, louder and more impatiently.

Todd swallows, wetting his parched throat, before turning to him. With the back of his hand, he wipes even drier lips.

"No, I...I hear you," he replies.

RJ squints at him. "Well?"

"Well WHAT?"

"WELL...do you have ANY idea where we're gonna find that stupid ho in that HUGE-ass building?"

Todd sighs, looking back at the prison, then back at RJ. He nods. "Yeah. I know exactly where she'll be," he says, and of course, RJ scrunches his face in disbelief.

"What, did she tell you last night? I don't remember hearing anything like that."

All Todd can do is shrug because he's definitely _NOT_ going to explain it to him now.

"Yeah, she told me. Rear loading dock," is all he says.

RJ studies him, wondering when the hell Roseanne told him _THAT._ But after a moment, he writes it off to just not remembering correctly, with a shake of his head.

"OhhhKAY," he replies, then pulls back out onto the road. He can see Todd in his peripheral vision chewing his thumb nail, brow knitted, eyes locked into the distance, _ain't so confident now,_ and he doesn't like it.

For once in his life, he wants, no, he NEEDS Todd Manning confident as _fuck_.

* * *

Roseanne pushes her empty cart through the sweltering laundry facility, sweating like crazy from the steam, and from her own nervousness. Her little 'mental phone call' with Todd had skewed her insides. She still feels nauseous and desperately wishes she had some water in her. She looks around at everyone going about their business and at the guards wandering up and down the aisles. She bites her lip, knowing what she has to do, and still sure that it can be done.

But still...the idea of actually having to _DO_ it now, of having to take that big risk, actually scares her. It's unlike her so she believes he put insecurity into her, fed her a good dose of his superiority, and it has dropped her.

 _NO...no fucking way...I have to get in control again_.

She doesn't want to get shot, she doesn't want to die today. She still has too many things to do. So she breathes deeply, pushing ahead, out of the double doors and into the main hallway. The relatively cooler air hits her and refreshes her somewhat. She finds a water fountain along the wall and stops, letting the arc of tepid water hit her cheek and lips before taking a big drink.

Then, just like before, sudden flashes of mental pictures, guns being loaded…

It's Todd and RJ…

 _...they're here._

She sees them, hunching low in the tall grasses behind the prison, slowly making their way toward the rear loading dock. Roseanne shuts her eyes, deliberately disconnecting herself from the images, letting the water hit her in the face again. Then she stands tall, and with a deep breath, continues ahead with the cart.

 _I'M the one who has YOU at MY call. I'M the one who started this, I'M the one who's gonna finish it. You're mine, Manning...not the other way around. Hear me? HEAR ME! Your soul...is MINE!_

She feels the power again, her sense of self lifting...higher, higher… coming into a place where maybe Oba is wrong. Maybe neither is inside of the other, maybe it is instead a joining.

 _We are one new form. Let's do this._

* * *

Todd and RJ squat low to the ground, looking through the tall, weedy grasses at the truck entrance. A linen service truck drives in and the guys watch as it makes a three-point turn and backs up to the dock. RJ squints at it, thinking fast as he sees two guards, one posted on either side of the dock.

"Okay..." he says, formulating the plan, then he looks at Todd.

"...when we go, take the guard on the left. I'll take the right. Then you go find her while I take the driver. And you better get your asses in the truck QUICK."

Todd nods back, then checks his gun one more time, hoping to God that the tranquilizer darts he bought actually _have_ tranquilizer _in_ them. Can't always trust those fucking militia dudes. He sucks his breath in and blows it out hard, psyching himself up.

Then he sees a few laundry carts being pushed out to the dock. He cocks an eyebrow slightly.

"There she is," he whispers...and RJ searches the spread of inmates.

"Which one?"

Todd shakes his head. "I don't know. But she's definitely there."

RJ hears a weird, twilight-zoney sound in his voice. He wants to ask what's REALLY going on but there's no time.

"You ready?" he asks.

Todd breaks his stare away from the carts to look at RJ with clear, steady eyes. "Yeah. Let's do it," he says, almost grinning, confidence back.

On the same count, they both blow out a last hard breath and move away from each other, spreading out to cover either side.

Up on the dock, Roseanne huddles inside her cart, listening to the sounds around her, inside of her, listening for _him_ as she ties a sheet around her, clutching it tightly, feeling her heart pounding.

"Please...don't let me die," she whispers, to whomever. Then she shoos away the thoughts of weakness at the very sound of the words and concentrates on success. She _will_ win, she says, she _will_ have him as her pawn in this nasty, nasty game. She _will_ use him to boost her power, and he _will_ know her strength. Oba is wrong. He's not in her, she's not in him. They are together as some different sort of whole. She can still vanquish him, control him. Win.

 _Yes._

She bears down, ready, now. Then she hears a high-pitched whizzing and a fleshy thump, and another just like it, farther away… probably on the other side of the dock. Euphoria comes once more. She almost laughs out loud.

 _The guards...they're down...go...GO!_

Roseanne sucks her breath in as she pushes the sheets off her and stands up just in time to see the truck driver turn and look at RJ below. Her nerves sizzle with excitement when RJ shoots him, watching the dart stick in the thick man's thigh. The driver only has time to yelp before passing out.

RJ makes quick eye contact with her, then whirls around and jumps into the truck, starting it up. Roseanne stands there, frozen for a second, not exactly sure what to do. She turns around…

...only to see Todd standing there. They share a strange, but intense look before he grabs her and lifts her out of the cart. They run for the truck, hearing the running footsteps of more guards right behind them. Todd shoves Roseanne into the truck and turns around, aiming at the guards, but then he sees that they're _also_ aiming in…

… with _REAL_ ammo.

"Shhhit...! GO, MAN...GO!" he yells, trying to pull the truck doors closed.

Roseanne sees the guards, counting at least six of them, as they start shooting. She can't help laughing madly as she drops to the floor, covering her head, hearing bullets impacting all around, ricocheting off the walls, some coming _way_ too close.

She looks up briefly, as the truck starts to move, to see Todd about to grab the doors but the lurching of the truck knocks him down. He moves back over to the wall quickly, reaching for the strap, trying to grab it, but when RJ makes the turn the doors fly open again, leaving them both exposed. She looks at him, then at the doors, and then, she concentrates all of her energies.

Todd sees her face, steely and determined, despite the continued gunfire around her. Then he looks back at the doors, just in time to see them fly up in his face and slam shut. The sound echoes for a second, then it dies away, along with the chaos they just left behind.

A relative quiet takes over, just the diesel engine rumbling low, as they stare at each other from opposite ends of the trailer. Then Roseanne pulls herself up, slowly, gathering the sheet around her, her only covering. She moves right over to Todd, pinning him to the sidewall, looking up into his eyes.

"My God, my savior," she says raggedly. "Fuck, man, OUR power is INVINCIBLE!"

He looks down at her with a look of revulsion and amazement, a hundred other emotions flying in too, except within the mass, hidden from her, a wildness has erupted and it prevents him from speaking because it's from that _other_ place.

His eyes gleam a rarely used light, a kind of light very few have known this close, this personally. Roseanne has no clue, he sees. And he breathes in her unawareness, animal-like...it's _his_ opportunity…

Another quiet moment passes and a grin spreads across Roseanne's face.

"Oh, baby," she says in a comforting voice, soft and silky. He clenches his jaw, feeling the adrenaline coursing through him, pushing him toward a move his human side doesn't really want to make. Roseanne tips her head back and forth slowly, studying him. She unties the sheet from around her chest. Holding the ends with both hands, she opens it out and wraps it around both of them, as she circles her arms around his neck.

The truck rocks gently like a baby's cradle, side to side, an unsung lullaby urging the sweet motion and Todd sees a vision of tender fingers clinging to a delicately carved wooden railing. Like them, like those precious hands, Todd clings to the smallest bit of earthly control he has over himself.

 _God, god, god...stop it, stop it…please…_

But fragile is his hold, just as fragile as a child's grasp. Todd exhales harshly, almost growling, feeling Roseanne pressing on him. He pushes back as far as he can, to glare at her. The hatred is uncontrollable now and ravaged morality screams inside his head to move away, except…

… he can't.

And Roseanne unwittingly keeps moving against him, seductively, indulging herself in an imagined sense of power, pushing all the buttons, getting her kicks out of the mad conflict in his eyes, the rage, the revulsion, and the deliciously obvious arousal.

She grins wider as she gently places a hand behind his head and tips it down, touching their foreheads together in a tender, affectionate gesture that sends him right over the edge.

Bottled-up hatred finally beats out everything else: reason, humanity, morality, love for his family, for himself...love, period.

And he reaches out, grabbing her and pulling her into him. Moving her body against him, rubbing her nakedness against him. He breathes fast…

Roseanne smiles, reveling in her victory as she lets him turn her around and push her back against the wall. Anything for him...anything to get him to break that moral code he's fought for his whole damned adult life. Ever since he was imprisoned for what he did to Marty Saybrooke.

She wants him to take her before he has a chance to really _think about_ what he's doing. She hangs onto his shoulders, she pouts, she arches her back, thrusting her hips at him.

 _Goddamn,_ she feels his erection and it thrills her to no end. She wants him to remember this, she wants him to realize _she_ has orchestrated everything.

 _Oh my falling kindred spirit in such strange holiness, don't you know it's ME who's brought this to fruition? The break-out, the knowledge of Tea's whereabouts, of your boys'? How you bend to my will...in the cold light of my strength._

She's completely high, now, on her own dream of power. Todd has lowered his head and she cannot see him.

He moves close to her, his mouth wet on her neck and he shakes with what appears to be complex desire. He groans, "God..."

… and that alone causes Roseanne a shock of wetness. And she has to fight a laugh of success. So she undoes his belt and pops his fly, reaching in and grabbing him, stroking him. But then she lets out a cry, at the sharp pain in her shoulder…

… because he is biting her, in the same place he did before. He's tightening his jaw and she can feel skin breaking and blood dripping.

She starts to giggle, cracking up, enjoying every second of this animalistic confrontation...not believing it's happening...waiting for him to let go, except he's not...and achingly, she pushes down on his shoulders to try to get him to lift her up. So they can kiss, so they can make love...she strokes him some more...yet he's not budging.

"Jesus," she moans, "let the fuck go..."

In the space of a few seconds, he's released her and is lifting her up like she wanted except rather than a gentle press he smashes her against the cold steel of the truck's panels, Roseanne yelping in hurt. The bolts scrape against her back, every bit of them hard and unforgiving. She struggles in his hold, understanding that he's pressed in between her legs so that she's spread apart like a pinned dead frog ready for an eighth-grade dissection. When she looks at him, she gasps at the dark light she sees in his eyes...

"Wait..." she huffs.

"Hell, no," he growls.

And without her realizing, she gives him the last push he needs.

She says, "No, you bastard! Stop!"

And with that, he jams himself into her and it hurts and she knows she's lost to him. He makes sure every thrust hurts, every press of his fingers on her body hurts.

She scrambles inside herself for a place to put this, for it to fit into her thinking...except it's near impossible because he's deep inside of her, not letting up on the brutality.

She looks at him from her elevated position, their faces right on top of each other...and Todd looks back at her, showing her there is nothing left of his human side. He wants to punish her, make her pay…

… for _everything_.

So he does. His hands are gripping her arm on one side and her neck on the other, holding her in a death grip so every thrust feels like a punch. And now it's _his_ turn to revel in the victory as she finally cries out in pain, gasping for air, tensing with as much resistance as she can manage.

He keeps up the pace and brunt force until he's satisfied that she's suffered enough because _suffering_ is all that matters now. Then he pulls out fast, having no intention of finishing inside of her because she is _nothing._

With no strength left in her legs to hold herself up, Roseanne drops all the way to the floor, whimpering. She pulls her knees into her chest, and wraps the sheet around her. She tries to stop herself from shaking so violently, from looking so _...weak._

Roseanne is out of prison but didn't expect this, didn't expect to feel so _trashed_. She believed she had him where she wanted him. How badly she miscalculated him takes her breath away. Her body is _broken._ Her mind shaken badly.

She turns her eyes upward to Todd, slowly, cautiously. She is almost afraid to look.

He stands some feet away in the shadows of the truck, against the wall, facing it. He leans on it with one arm, panting as well but he sees her and glares right back at her, plenty of venom still left in his eyes. She holds his gaze with a new knowledge of him, a hard lesson learned.

 _If you fuck with me, I'll kill you._

Still, revenge lingers with an equally strong determination _NOT_ to be the loser in this game. She curses him aloud, "Fuck you, _puto!"_

He hears her words and knows that she believes the lesson over, that she's trying to get one last dig in, except he's not done with her.

No.

He steps over to her and slams a hand against the wall above her to steady himself in the rocking truck. He grabs hold of his still-engorged cock that's protruding from the unbuttoned jeans and he finishes the job, a quick matter of a few hard strokes. His jaw tightens with each productive pulse, his mouth a slash of fully expressed _hate_. Semen spills on her, a final insult, wetness hitting her hair, cheek, chin.

Glaring at him as he straightens his clothes, as she wipes her face with the sheet, she hisses, "Bastard."

"You have no fucking idea, _Ms. Delgado._ "

This game...was just getting started.

 **To be continued...**


	20. Chapter 20

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 20**

The police sirens blare across the countryside and RJ, sweating, glances at his watch. Llantano county sheriffs pulled together faster than he'd expected. He's got mere minutes to get to the birch grove before the cops ream his backside and set the dogs on a hunt. A massive pond sets there - perfect place to dump the laundry truck. They'd hoof it to Todd's SUV at the southernmost end of the wood and drive quick to Fallstown, one of the last bastions of the Jamaican mafia where RJ has solid connections. There, they'd get transportation to Philly...and head to their real destination: England...and Téa.

"Provided we don't get nailed," RJ mutters, wiping the beads of perspiration from his neck. He grinds his teeth and adjusts the side-view mirror. The dust from the truck prevents him from getting any sort of decent distant view so he's back to judging the closeness of the cops by their sound. And they're gaining. He takes another look and is relieved that the back doors are still closed...at least the two sons of bitches hadn't rolled out in the wild ride. He wonders if either got hit in the gunfire. Not that he's really giving a damn at this point.

"Motherfuck," he groans angrily, reminded once more of their "relationship" and slams his hand on the seat next to him. Manning snowed him but good, making RJ think this Roseanne deal was just about getting Téa back.

 _Nah..._ his gut is telling him there's so much more and it's some kinda bad shit and it's making him rethink what he's doing. Every bit of it. RJ grumbles a mantra, "Stay cool, man...stay cool," trying to gather a sense of calm. Safety first, getting away _...first._

The sirens grow closer and RJ squints his eyes looking for the unmistakable patch of birch trees.

"The hell are you?"

Minute and a half is what they got at best...that's it. Keeping his eyes on the road, RJ squeezes the hard plastic of the steering wheel. He shifts to a lower gear, hearing the scraping of metal.

And at last he spots the edges of the wood beyond the rise in the road...

"Come to papa," he grins, caught up for a second in the pure rush of escape. The grove comes on fast and RJ spins the steering wheel a hard left, smashing through the brush and bouncing hard in the truck, his head nearly hitting the roof of the cab. His eyes are jerking between the mirrors and the front view and he screams a loud, "Ha!" as they careen bumpily closer to the pond, the water ahead glimmering like treasure.

He knows Todd and Roseanne are getting beaten up in the trailer and he can't help but laugh as he turns sharply to avoid a tree. Finally, he slams on the brakes and flies out of the truck, narrowly missing the water's edge. The tires are already sinking into the muddy shore and even though the brush reduces the noise of the cops, RJ can feel in his bones that they're still pressed for time. He's sure they were spotted making the turn off-road.

The back doors are moving, clearly someone trying to open them, and RJ grabs the latch. Pulls the doors wide open…

...to an angry-looking Todd at the opening, and hanging back behind him, a cautious Roseanne. Todd doesn't hesitate at all, jumping out, grunting as he hits the ground and falls to his knees. Staying down a moment too long.

Roseanne follows him out, unusually quiet, too. She carefully steps on the ground, clinging to the sheet to avoid exposure. Once sure-footed, Roseanne glares at RJ, who's looking at her like she has three heads.

"Well," she snaps, "Where to now, MAGELLAN?"

"The hell...girl, where the fuck are your CLOTHES?"

While RJ's query is directed at Rosie, he glances at Todd who averts his eyes, bends a tad and brushes the dirt off his pants.

"WELL, I didn't want to be wearing JAIL stuff, y'know?" she replies with wide eyes like she's talking to a two-year old. "That screaming orange suit's kind of a dead giveaway."

"Yeah, well, so is being buck NAKED! The hell's wrong with you? It's freezing out here and you're dressed for some fuckin' Brazilian beach! Swear to God, girl, you must've been dropped on your fuckin' head." Roseanne dips her head a bit, too raw to feel any kind of embarrassment as he continues on.

"So...what'd you think we were gonna DO? HUH? Bust you out and take you to the MALL?!"

"Shut up," she mutters. RJ has a real way with the insults. Not that she cares. The only thing on her mind is getting a weapon so she can slit Todd's throat. But she concedes they need to get away from the laundry truck.

"Enough small-talk," Todd interrupts, "Those sirens for us?"

"Yeah...we better get movin'," RJ says, shaking his head at Roseanne's inevitable discomfort. He takes off his coat and swings it over her shoulders. Roseanne shoots him an angry look, but doesn't refuse it. Instead, she clutches the coat closed with one hand.

RJ just shakes his head again. Then he begins taking steps away from the pond just as the truck rolls forward into the water, rocks awkwardly, then begins sinking fast.

The three silently trudge up a short hill deeper into the grove. They stop for a moment as the sirens get louder, then start to fade. The units drive straight past the grove, amazingly enough. The three continue on, the sound of their footfalls and hard breathing being all that's audible.

"Always knew Llanview's finest wasn't worth shit," RJ says as he walks a little faster, a little lighter. He chuckles that they got away so easily, speaking more to himself. "Can't believe they didn't see us switch back in here..."

Todd and Roseanne don't say a word, keeping to their work of getting through the grove. RJ turns to look at them, because it's weird that they're so quiet. Plain...fucking...weird. He watches them for a second, Roseanne with her head down, gripping the coat and now-dirty sheet tightly, and Todd continually turning to see behind them. He's got major attitude in the way he navigates the forest and the expression on his face. The all-black he wears adds to him being a walking threat to humanity. RJ thinks he'd punch a tree if one dared drop a branch in front of him.

The thought would be funny.. if they weren't on a run for their lives.

"We're going into Fallstown. You heard of it?" RJ asks to break the quiet, fully suspicious of their silence. He's beginning to get paranoid, too, thinking they're cooking something up that's going to piss him off. He repeats, "You telling me you never heard of it?"

Neither says anything and keep on walking.

RJ mocks them, saying, "No, RJ, we're not real big on geography and world travel. Tell us what's in Fallstown.' Why certainly, Mr. Manning and Ms. Delgado. Besides being a lovely place to shop and dine, I got connections there. Plan is to catch a lift to the airport in Philly so the three of us don't get caught in Manning's truck and then we take off to jolly ol' England...and then it's straight to the place where Téa's at which ROSIE is going to inform us of. Ain't that right, Rosie?"

The mocking tone has trailed into one of heavy menace. Roseanne raises her eyes to RJ who's walking backwards...who's glowering at her. He stops walking, forcing her to stop, too.

Todd pauses, brushing back his hair expectantly and waits for her answer, clearly on edge. He's got that "time bomb" look on his face. He's practically baring teeth.

Roseanne glimpses him, taking in the remnants of pure hatred coming from him.

RJ says quietly, "So you gonna spill where they at? Or did you already tell Manning and the two of you are planning to get rid of me...and let ME take the fall for all this shit?" RJ shoots a glare at Todd.

"Don't look at me, Gannon. I don't know anything." Todd glares at Roseanne. "SHE knows...and yeah, she's gonna talk."

Sneering, Roseanne says, "Not until I know we're fully outta danger. We head to London...and THEN I'll tell you. IF you're a good boy."

Todd does bare his teeth, lighting up, powerfully. Within seconds he has Roseanne's hair in his hand and he's snarling, "You don't call the shots, bitch. We nearly got fuckin' killed out there! A deal's a deal-"

"Hey, back off, man!" RJ huffs, angry that Todd's doing this thing and tries to break them up, but is pushed back when Roseanne whips a fist in his direction and begins clawing at Todd. She's so mad, both the coat and the sheet fall to the ground around her feet in the attempted tussle. She's a mountain lion to Manning's pit bull terrier and the dog seems to be getting the best of the cat, though, so she gives up the fight, remaining in his clutch.

She grins bitterly, murmuring, "Well, what have I got to lose at this point? You already messed me up pretty good...what MORE can you do?"

"Plenty, bitch," Todd growls, eyeing her directly as he brings her closer to him, his whole body shaking with fury. "Now TALK!"

It's then that RJ catches sight of the fresh bite on her neck, the sun coming through the trees glinting off the damaged skin. It's an ugly mark, skin broken, bruising beginning to bloom. He sees her back, too, red marks, deep scratches. Those are gonna bruise also.

RJ groans, "Jesus CHRIST," not wanting to know the gory details and beginning to panic somewhat as he adds, "Let go of her." But Todd doesn't. So RJ finally walks over and smacks him hard on the side of his head with an open palm.

"Boy, I SAID, LET GO OF HER!"

He does it on purpose, knowing Todd's history and knowing something of what made him what he is. He knows he's pushing a button, using a sure bit of humiliation to get him to listen.

And it works like a charm - Todd drops Roseanne like a hot bit of coal, blanching with a kind of horror. He ducks his head, puppy-like, all that anger fizzling in this moment of clarity. He says softly, "I didn't mean to hurt her..."

RJ's got a bad, _BAD_ feeling now, and is torn between punching the hell out of Manning, _AGAIN..._ and apologizing for using his weakness to get control over the situation. He watches Roseanne pick up the sheet and coat to cover herself. She's got her head up. She looks pleased...like she won something...which frustrates RJ.

"And what the fuck are YOU grinning at?" he says, which makes her look away too. RJ makes a low, growling noise in his throat, shaking his head at the both of them. "Look, I don't know what sick, screwed-up thing is going on with the two of you...but I don't want any part of it. And I'm NOT going to-" He pauses as he watches Roseanne adjust her sheet again and smirk at Todd who's suddenly wrapped up in another sort of sheet...he's perspiring...working to control something...pacing a bit. He finally leans back against a tree. Slides to the ground.

Too pissed to finish his sentence, RJ turns and starts walking again. He's counting up the charges...and now he's wondering what sort of crap Roseanne could pin on Todd. And on RJ as an accessory and with his rap sheet being what it was, he'd never see the light of day. He'd be thrown into prison for life. And maybe that's what they want.

 _Maybe..._ they're planning together to get rid of him. Yeah, he's circled back around to the paranoia.

The possibility is too hot for RJ and he yanks out a nine-millimeter piece he tucked into in belt, pointing it at Todd and Roseanne.

"Alright," he yells, "you tell me what the hell's going on RIGHT NOW! I'm NOT going down for you! I want Téa back home, away from that freak...but hell if I'm gonna lose my life because YOU all are up to some shit behind my back!"

Todd watches the gun and closes his eyes, dropping his head into his hands. Roseanne pulls the coat tighter around her, looking at the barrel of the gun. She looks like she wants to say something...but is holding back.

RJ says again, "Tell me, Rosie...tell me or else I'm gonna cap both of you. Right here...right da fuck now."

Todd puts his hand up as if he could prevent a bullet from ending his life. Looking like maybe he doesn't think it's such a bad idea.

"There's nothing going on that you have to worry about, Gannon."

"Da fuck does THAT mean?" RJ spits back and Todd gets that when Gannon's "the" turns to "da" that he's way past his code-switching skills and deep into serious gangland territory from his Joliet days. RJ is not a man to mess with, that nine absolutely is locked and loaded.

RJ's eyes narrow on him, the barrel aimed at his head.

"I noticed dat fresh bite mark she got on her. Looks nasty, looks like YOU, a signature of a rabid fuckin' dog."

Todd's upper lip twitches and he halfway shakes his head, his insides churning now with certain realities, certain moralities. Yeah, his human side has snuck up on him, purring, mewing, crawling all over him, trying to find a place to settle down.

 _There's no place here for you...shoo...no love here._

Worst of all, Téa's voice has broken through a haze he's been in. He can hear her, hear vows they'd spoken long ago _, oh god, oh god,_ he thinks, feeling the darkness cowering with the light of a sun it doesn't want, feeling that old fracturing he does, the ducking of his true self into the cover of personalities… the world blurs for a minute.

"Answer me, Manning! Did you do that to her?!"

Roseanne watches the play on Todd's features and bristles with the power RJ has unwittingly given her. She likes it. She almost laughs aloud. So...she decides to keep his assault on her to herself for now because it's a perfectly _useful_ muzzle _._

"No," she says to RJ, calmly, "no. A screw did it to me last night. Played some games. You know...prison life. Besides, I wouldn't LET this piece of shit lay a hand on me."

RJ keeps the gun trained on them, still not trusting anything they say. Todd looks guilty, but then turns on the sincerity switch, pleading, "Oh, come on, man...I just want Téa and my kids back. Rosie's all we got. Please...let's just keep to your plan, okay? It's good."

"I CAN'T go to jail-least of all 'cause of YOU screwing things up for me."

"Oh, what, you think *I* want go to prison?"

"Man, I don't know WHAT da fuck goes through YO' head. All I know is that I can't...deal...with this kinda shit. I don't like it, I don't want it."

"There's NOTHING for you to worry about, okay?"

"Well, what did she mean by you 'messing her up'?"

"Talkin' shit-that's all."

Todd stays pretty calm and seems to have pulled himself together. But RJ just knows he's a lying dog with Roseanne in on it. Problem is he's on the losing end at the moment and they have to get on the move. RJ knows he's in deep and now he's _got_ to work with them for the sake of his own life. Also known as, a truly fucked-up situation.

He growls, "Okay, you ain't gonna cop to shit. Fine. But you listen to me, motherfucker. Don't touch her, don't lay a goddamn hand on her. 'Cause you're only makin' things worse. Any more trouble outta the two of you and I WILL kill you. I don't need any more crap on my hands."

"But if you kill us, won't that be ... a whole LOTTA crap?" Todd tilts innocently.

RJ laughs icily, waving the gun back and forth, and Todd chuckles along, passively, accompanying RJ…

… until RJ cuts him off with a solid, "Naw, son, 'cause *I* do it right. No mess. No evidence. You will jus' disappear."

Todd coolly nods his head in agreement, then, to the condition. Stony, unrevealing. He's got the lying thing down. He's in control again. He shakes his head, reminding RJ of a wet, mangy dog. He tucks the gun back into his belt, wiping the sweat again off his brow.

Roseanne starts walking ahead of him and Todd because she's spotted the SUV. When she reaches it, she turns around and leans back against the passenger door.

Todd gets onto his belly and reaches beneath the car for the keys. When he gets up, Roseanne looks at him in the eyes. He doesn't hold her gaze and just unlocks the door. She climbs into the back and Todd gets in the front passenger seat, commenting that he's got no idea where Fallstown is.

RJ climbs into the driver's seat, grabbing from the air the keys Todd throws at him.

"Twenty minutes and we'll be there," RJ says, starting the engine.

Rosie settles down into the seat, soon lying down. Todd glances in the back, giving her the iciest of airs. She stares fiercely at him. She flips him her middle finger, then uses it to make a cutting action across her neck. Shoots him thoughts...beneath the breeze from an open window…

 _I'll get you back for what you did, fallen holy man. Look at me, look at my hurts...imagine what Téa will think, will do, will say… when she knows you're still a goddamn rapist. Always have been one, always will be one. I can't fucking WAIT._

Grinning, Roseanne says aloud, in a matronly tone, "Remember what RJ said, now. Be a good boy and play nice."

Todd has turned his head to her, hair hanging, face in shadow. He licks his lips, light eyes hard on hers. Dead silent.

RJ shoots her a warning look in the rearview. "Were you listening to ANYTHING I said back there?" he asks, and he sees Roseanne's big eyes staring back at him in the mirror.

"I heard you," she replies.

"Well then SHUT THE HELL UP! Stop feeding the goddamn dog! Otherwise I'm pullin' out the duct tape _… comprende?"_

He watches her slink back down in the seat at that, snuggling under his coat. Todd turns back and watches the road coming at them… black tar rolling… yellow lines twisting and turning, splitting the road in two.

* * *

Dean's car flies along, a lone black spot streaking across a winter-brown canvas. He runs a hand over his head, feeling the new, scrubby growth of hair sticking up...a feeling he doesn't like. He makes a mental note to shave again tonight, if he can. Then he laughs to himself, suddenly realizing that he always worries about his hair when he's nervous. And it's not the job he's nervous about, that's over and done with.

It's the next few hours, days, weeks even, the period of heavy traveling and constantly looking over his shoulder. Not that he was ever really safe to begin with, but these last days at the cottage with Téa had started to make him feel...comfortable. More so than he'd ever been anywhere, at any time, with anyone. And this is not the time to be comfortable.

Comfort means letting your guard down and THAT can mean a prison sentence or worse.

His thoughts move to her, his mind drifting a little, wandering with the help of the drab, unchanging scenery. He can see himself, somewhere sunny and warm. Walking along with Tea's children, children fathered by another man, kids holding _his_ hands, gripping his fingers tightly as they try to get used to walking, stepping on and stumbling over their own feet. But they don't fuss or cry...in fact, they laugh...thoroughly enjoying the new experience.

They know they don't have to worry because as long as _he's_ there, holding them up, they're fine.

And Téa walks backwards in front of them, smiling big and wide at them all. The sun lights her hair, giving her an angel's halo, and the breeze plays with the silky deep brown strands with the glimmer of red. She looks beautiful...and happy.

That's as far as his mind goes, for now, but still, he grins. _Nice. I like that,_ he thinks, taking a deep breath. And in a quieter voice, a deeper buried one, he thinks, _I love that._

The familiar grove of trees soon appears on the horizon, and he puts the pedal down again.

* * *

Téa checks the boys to make sure they're bundled up tight for the tenth time. She sighs, knowing she's fussing needlessly, but she is just too anxious to sit still. In their seats, immobilized by the many layers of clothing and blankets, Evan and Brendan watch her with wide eyes. Both of them seem to wonder what could possibly be going on _now._ Téa finally backs off, sitting down on the hearth, facing them.

"Sorry, you guys," she says, giving them a weak smile. Then she looks around at the cottage and notices how different it seems. Its coziness has disappeared and now it's just as cold and uninviting as it was when they first arrived. Darkness has settled back in and she rubs her arms, feeling a sudden chill. So she gets up and starts to putter. Walking into the bedroom, she runs a hand over the blankets, smoothing them out. She tugs on the pillowcases too, neatening the whole bed as if someone would be using it later.

Then she hears the car coming up the drive and almost sprints out the door, stepping out to meet Dean just as he pulls up.

He shuts the engine off and grabs his gear off the seat; and when he gets out of the car, he stands tall. Téa looks him up and down, at his clothes, clingy and black just like the thieves she'd seen in movies. Despite the seriousness of the whole situation, she bites her lip to keep from laughing.

"What?" Dean asks.

She shakes her head, chuckling, "Sorry. I was just noticing your... _uniform_."

Dean looks at himself, then shrugs, a small sheepish smile on his face.

"Least I don't clash," he replies, tossing it off with that ultra-calm that always comforted her.

She steps up to him and he looks down at her. For a moment, it's quiet between them but then Dean looks off to the side, then behind him… doing a check over his shoulder. Not overly concerned, just a routine check. Then he turns back to her.

"So...you ready?"

Téa nods, too quickly, it seems to him, so Dean tips his head up a bit. "You sure?" he asks, and she nods again, more emphatic this time which makes his eyebrow go up, knowingly.

"What's up?"

She gives him a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"You're nervous," he replies right back, taking her off-guard, not realizing how obvious it is. In fact, she's beyond nervous. And she doesn't really know why.

She opens her mouth, but nothing comes out, so she looks away, rubbing the back of her neck.

"It's...it's nothing," she says after a moment, shooing away her own thoughts, which seem to be darkening, like the cottage.

 _The cottage..._ something about it starts to really frighten her, like...like it's trying to tell her something. She half-laughs at the thought, pushing it away, and Dean notices this, tipping his head down to get in her line of sight.

"Téa...talk to me. If you're having second thoughts about this, you better speak up."

She looks at him at that and doesn't immediately deny it, which starts to make him a little uneasy. Another quiet moment passes during which, he can tell-she's rethinking her decision.

So he backs off a little, taking a step away.

Téa wants to say something to him, but her darkening thoughts are leading her back to Todd, back to the life she left behind.

And whether or not she should return to it.

She wonders where Todd is, what he's doing, if he's okay. She laughs again to herself, humorlessly, knowing damned well that he's _not_ okay, that he's out of his mind with worry and rage and guilt _…_

… _out of his mind, period,_ she suddenly thinks. A quiet voice inside her adds...

 _He's fractured. Split into two._

A cruel thought, she has to admit. He was treated for his multiple personality disorder. He was cured. She's just being… petty. Though she does imagine that the penthouse is undoubtedly trashed and deserted, its owner and the Sun's publisher most likely MIA.

She doubts anyone knows where Todd is at the moment, aside from RJ, maybe. She blinks slowly, seeing him in her mind, cruising the dark streets of Llanview, like a stray dog…

 _...or a hellhound._

She sighs at that, the image more tiring than scary. Was there even any point in going back now? Did they have any chance at all of making sense out of this mess-much less a life? Or had she finally made that break—one she could never seem to make before—without even realizing it?

 _Maybe THAT'S what's bothering me._

Her thoughts are so jumbled and her feelings toward him are a turbulent sea thrashing her insides. She loves him, more than anything, and she dreads him...more than anything.

 _How can the two sides ever co-exist...? Easily...as long as you don't mind going crazy._

It used to be she felt she had to stand by Todd and be his support in a world which just didn't _get_ him. She was one of the few who did, and so, it was even more important that she be there for him. But she doesn't feel like that anymore, at least, not as much because her priorities have changed.

It's not just about the two of them anymore. The boys are all that matters, and when it comes right down to it, she's still not convinced that Todd won't harm them. Time away has done little to ease that fear, that doubt, that _mistrust._ He's a dog you never know will bite or not. A pit bull that can turn on his master.

She sees their entire relationship flash by in a matter of seconds, from the very first day she walked into Todd's office to the present moment. And if anything, doubt now takes precedence over everything else: over herself, Todd, their marriage, over love and all the work they did to keep it together. She stood by him all through his recovery from dissociative identity disorder.

If it means that her children will be safe, she'll give up the love of her life and deal with the consequences, however frightening or tragic they might be. The children come first.

 _Protect them from the hellhound._

So she finally looks up at Dean, at this man she doesn't know as well as Todd, but she finds _trustworthy._ He won't bite her. Won't turn on her or the kids.

 _DON'T YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT RESPECT?! THESE ARE MY THINGS, STARR! MINE!_

And she finds that, at the end of her muddled train of thought, her decision still stands.

"No," she says quietly. "We're still going with you."

Dean takes that in, but gives her another minute, just in case. When she doesn't say anything more, he sighs in relief, letting out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. Then he nods and before he walks past her to go inside, he rubs her arm, giving it a squeeze. Téa shuts her eyes when he's out of sight, on the verge of tears because she's just let go of something she's held onto too tightly for so long.

And now she's floating freely. She looks up at the sky, dark and threatening, and as it starts to rain and she can't help but wonder if it's another sign...if her decision just unleashed the storm.

But she reins in her worries because she's safe. Her children are safe.

Safer than with Todd _...yes..._ that's the most important thing.

 _The hellhound runs through pooled water on the rained-out streets and he's nipping at your heels. Run, little one, run. Run away before the moon's light fades, before you do._

 **To be continued...**


	21. Chapter 21

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 21**

"So...where are we going?"

Téa's words cut through the silence that's been hanging over them since they left the cottage.

Dean glances at her, then back at the dreary, wet road. "Well, we're heading back to the dock where I picked you guys up," he replies, and Téa's shoulders sink a bit.

"Ohhhh...another boat ride."

"Yeah. Sorry about that, but there's no other way. Heathrow and the train stations're crawling with cops by now. And no doubt they'll be watching the major roads, so...water's the only way outta here."

"Great," Téa says, sighing. "Shoulda packed some Dramamine."

Dean smiles at that. "Eh...you'll be fine. We'll be in Ireland before you know it."

"Ireland?" she repeats, the mention of it making her pick her head up.

"Yeah, more shitty weather, but it's a good place to lay low for a few days," he says, then notices the look on her face. "What?"

Téa looks away, shaking her head. "Nothing...just made me remember something, that's all," she says, and Dean looks intrigued.

"What, been there before?"

She shakes her head again, eyes cast down. After a moment the words seem to come out by themselves, quiet and almost sad.

"Todd's been there. He doesn't talk about it, but...he was there for a while. And the boys, they're named after people he hung out with there...twin brothers..." She trails off after that, turning toward the window.

Dean looks back out at the road, not sure what to do with that information. He can tell that Todd is weighing heavily on her mind so he decides to try and distract her.

"Tell me about them."

Téa raises her head. "About...who?"

Dean smiles gently, tipping his head backward toward the twins, sleeping in their car seats.

"Them," he replies,

"I don't know what you mean. Tell you what?"

He shrugs, looking between her and the road. "Anything."

Her brow knits tighter and she glances out the window, saying nothing.

"Ohh-kay," Dean says, determined to give Téa _something_. "I'LL start, then. Ummm...the bigger one, Brendan, he's really quiet. Unusually quiet for a baby."

Téa's hard look melts away at that and she gazes affectionately at Brendan a moment before returning to Dean. She nods, not _wanting_ to talk about him.

Dean glances around at his mirrors, giving her a minute to jump in. But she doesn't. When she still doesn't say anything after another thirty seconds, he laughs quietly, nervously, mostly at himself.

"Y'know, I'm TRYING to get your mind off things. But I'm starting to feel kinda dumb so...maybe I should shut up? Is that what you're saying?"

Téa doesn't respond immediately but after another moment, she snaps out of it and swallows to wet her dry throat.

"Umm...you're right."

Dean's head snaps back over. "I am? About what?" he asks, with a goofy sweetness that makes her smile a little.

"About Brendan," she says. "He IS quiet."

Dean grins slowly, nodding...and Téa sighs, deciding to let him distract her. "He's always been quiet. He's not a complainer like Ev," she says, looking back at them. The twins sleep away, lulled by the surefire magic of a moving vehicle's vibration. She smiles at them, amazed at how easy they're being on her.

"Don't suppose you kept those silver rattles," Dean suddenly says, referring to the gift he gave them, sneakily sent to her.

"No," she says, "I gave those to the police."

He chuckles, surprising her.

"What's funny...is that what you wanted?"

"Not really...but it was a pretty smart move. Good thing I was thinking ahead, though."

"You did… the police never knew they were from you." Téa lingers on him, on his profile as he keeps his eyes on the road. She wants to say something important, _distracting_ , but can't bring herself to do it.

For his part, Dean feels her desire to speak up, to snap a sharp rebuke, but he is okay not hearing it. He'd rather live in the fantasy that she knew they were from him… and she loved them… but _had_ to turn them over.

After another moment, she turns back to the window, looking through the rain streaking the glass.

After a few moments, Dean spots a pair of headlights coming toward them. He's immediately suspicious, even though he knows that other people _do_ use this road. He breathes deep as they approach each other; and as the other car gets closer, he sees the color and model of it…

...and his whole body deflates.

"Oh, no," he whispers, getting Téa's attention.

"What?" she asks, looking at him, then out the windshield.

He doesn't respond to her but they both watch as the other car suddenly swerves around and blocks their path, forcing Dean to slam on the brakes.

Téa gasps, "Who is that? What's happening?!"

Dean's mind races, trying to come up with a plan, anything at all. He swallows hard, watching as four men get out of the car and walk around to the front of Dean's car, standing like a human wall.

Dean breathes out raggedly, knowingly…and Téa does the same.

"Oh my god...Dean," she whispers, starting to panic, her heart racing, and rightly so. He turns to her and touched her face, gently getting her to look at him.

"Téa, listen to me. LISTEN." His voice is firm, harsh. "Whatever happens, DON'T GET OUT OF THE CAR. Got it?"

She swallows, her expression showing her sick-to-her-stomach fear. "WHAT's going on? What do they want?"

"I'm gonna find out. Just stay here and keep the doors locked. Okay?"

He is amazingly cool but it doesn't ease Téa's rising terror.

"Don't go," she cries out, "don't leave us...please..." Her eyes focus on the man approaching Dean's window.

"Téa, I'm not leaving you, I just...I have to talk to these guys. They're the ones that hired me. It'll be fine, just stay here." Despite the words, despite the insistent calm, he actually isn't convinced of any of it.

The man taps the glass with a gloved hand, making Téa jump. Dean shuts his eyes for a second, psyching up, then he cups Téa's face, giving her one hard look, right in the eyes. Then he lets her go and gets out of the car.

The other man steps back, eyeing Téa, then the babies, coolly. Keeping her eyes on Dean, Téa immediately hits the lock button when the door shuts and watches them, helplessly, as they walk a few steps away.

Dean looks back and forth between the man and the other three guys by the car. Then he wipes the rain from his face and hair with one hand, shooting a stony look at the man in front of him...the dark-haired guy from the pub.

"Little dramatic, dontcha think?" Dean says, tipping his head toward the other guys.

The dark-haired man tips his head back, obviously not amused. "The fuck is THAT?" he asks, gesturing toward Téa.

"THAT," Dean replies, mocking his accent, "...is Téa. The one I told you about. The one you helped bring over here, remember?"

"Don't get shitty with me, lad. I KNOW who she is. What I wanna know is what the fuck is she still doin' here?"

Dean does a take at that. "What do YOU care? You're wasting time, man. Shouldn't you be on a boat by now?" He knows full well where this is headed now. He folds his arms, making sure one hand sneaks under his coat.

"YOU told me she'd be outta here in a couple of days," the man says, accenting his words with a pointed finger.

One of the other man adds, "I had a bad feelin' about this from the start...I just KNEW IT, y'fuckin' stupid bastard."

The first man steps up to Dean who stretches his fingers as far back as he can, trying to reach his hip holster.

"I never said anything about time. Besides, like I said, why do you even CARE? She's none of your concern." His index finger finally finds the strap and flicks the snap open.

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, lad. She is VERY MUCH...MY CONCERN," the dark-haired man hisses low, getting in Dean's face. "How much does she know?"

Dean lifts his chin in matching aggression, growling, hiding his intense anxiety. "I'm not STUPID. She doesn't know ANYTHING about the job 'cause I didn't TELL her anything."

The dark-haired man's eyes scan his face, then he looks over at his three companions, giving them a slight nod.

"Mmm-hmm," the dark-haired man starts, making a clicking sound. "You'll forgive me if I just...don't believe you."

From inside the car, Téa stares at Dean's back intently...then she looks at the other men who start walking towards the car, spreading out. Téa heart drops and the blood drains from her face. She lets out a panicked breath. "No...no, no, no...no...no," she says, looking around for something, anything.

 _The hellhound...he's nipping… growling… hungry… and he's moving so close to you. He wants the babies._

Dean sees them approaching the car.

"Hey-" he starts, turning back to the dark-haired man just in time to get a solid punch in the gut. Rain flies off of Dean as sucks his breath in and doubles over, giving the dark-haired man another opportunity.

And he takes it, backhanding Dean, sending him all the way down.

Téa's head snaps at the sight and she sees Dean fall out of sight.

"NO!" she cries out, as if she could do something. The dark-haired man sees her and his icy stare scares the living shit out of her. His eyes float upward again and he nods.

Téa turns around just as a crowbar smashes the passenger side window. She screams in horror, scrambling to get in the back seat to protect the boys who have been startled awake and are now crying loudly. Freezing rain rushes in as she reaches out, trying to stretch her arms over them. She feels hands grabbing her legs and she screams again at the top of her lungs as they start to pull on her. She's panicking, drowning in fear...a fear she's never known...not like this, nothing like this.

"NO! GET OFF ME! LEAVE US ALONE!"

The dark-haired man watches from the other side as two of his thugs yank a struggling and screaming Téa from the car. He signals to the remaining man, who nods back as he reaches for a gun in his belt.

"Take her out into the field," the gunman says emotionlessly.

When the man grabs Téa by the arms and starts dragging her away from the car, she fights like she never has before. Another man pulls at her too, and she sees the car receding…

She still hears her children crying and she knows she was put on this earth to save them and she has to stay alive to do it so she bucks wildly, screaming as loud as she can, hoping against hope that her cries will wake Dean.

Will wake somebody.

"HELP ME! HELP!"

But as they get farther into the field, her heart seizes with reality. No rescue will come. No one will hear her. She trembles violently, her clothes soaking through as she is pulled through the tall, wet grass. She keeps fighting, wildly kicking, clawing, throwing herself against the hold the men have on her, but her limbs don't cooperate in the freezing cold wetness. So she cries, wails, screaming more, tears mixing with the rain.

 _Ohgod...this is it...they're gonna kill me...I'm gonna die out here...we all will...and no one will know...oh, god...there will be nobody to save my children…_

 _From the devil she knows is coming._

And like a last ray of light, she thinks of her Todd and cries harder, her spirit breaking with grief. She sees his sweet smile at her, his look of total love _…_

 _Oh god…_

She hears his voice, clear...clear _…_

 _I love you, Delgado._

 _...I'm dying,_ she thinks. _I must be dying already...and it wasn't Todd after all. It was ME...I'M the one the children should be afraid of...I'M the hellhound...eating my own children…_

"My fault...my fault," she whispers, as the men finally release her arms. She manages to get on her knees and she looks up at them all, as they surround her.

"Don't hurt my children...they're just...they're just babies...please," she begs, her voice a heartbreaking whisper, her hands up.

"We ain't monsters."

They exchange glances...then they all step back, the one with the gun taking a deep breath as he aims in on her.

 _Hey, Delgado, I'm building us a house in the country...and it's beautiful...and it's safe...and we're gonna be so happy. You know? It's gonna be perfect. I love you, you're my life._

Tea shuts her eyes, bracing... _I'm so sorry, mijo...it's all my fault._

A dark deep voice answers.

 _Yeah, it is. And now they're MINE._

 **BANG!**

The shot rings out, echoing all around…

...and Téa flinches, expecting to feel the hard hit somewhere on her body...but she doesn't.

She peels her eyes open just in time to see the gunman falling down on top of her and she screams as they both go down under his weight.

She tries to wriggle out from under him...then freezes as the other two men whirl around and start shooting back toward the car. Tea screams because her boys are there and she struggles to see through the grass and the rain...as the body weighs on her and shudders, a last gasp passing through him.

She finally catches sight of Dean, just for an instant, just long enough to fire.

 **BANG! BANG!**

She jerks at the noise, watching, stunned, as the other thugs go down, their bodies disappearing into the grass.

The gunfire sounds finally float away after a moment, the patter of the rain taking over again. Téa stays down, cheek to the cold ground...seeing the dead bodies peeking through the grass...not to mention the one she's still trapped under.

 _Dead._

She's too traumatized to move...until she hears Dean's voice.

"TEA!"

Her head snaps up and she sees him running towards her, ssees him as if time has slowed to a crawl, stopped even. And she thinks, _he killed them. He saved us...again._

"TEA!"

"Here...I'm here," she tries to yell, but her voice is weak. Uncommitted. Like maybe she's not alive. Not sure she should be. Because this is all her fault.

 _Yeah it is._

She struggles to move again as Dean approaches. He sees movement in the grass and instinctively aims in, the gun coming up whip-fast. But then he sees her and drops to his knees, letting out a hard breath.

"Shit...TÉA! Are you okay? Jesus CHRIST!"

He pushes the dead gunman off her and scoops her into his arms. She eyes him...something's wrong...what's wrong?

 _Tell me, amor, what's wrong?_

"Oh god...you're not hit, are you?" he asks, panicked. Téa shakes her head, but he checks her anyway, huffing, "You okay? You sure?"

They finally share a long look...then Téa's face suddenly changes because the world is too quiet.

"My babies!" she breathes, trying to get out of his grasp, but he holds onto her.

"Hey! They're alright...THEY'RE ALRIGHT!" he yells, shaking her because it seems the only way to get her attention. "They're safe in the car...I made sure. They're okay...it's okay."

His voice is soothing, calming her down. Téa stares at him, her chest heaving and teeth chattering. Then she breaks down, collapsing into his arms, burying her face in his shoulder. It's not intentional. He's simply a body there to catch her because she's disgraced by her egregious error in judgment.

 _It's your fault._

For moments, she felt that divine truth. She cannot escape it. She is the hellhound.

The clouds over them suddenly open up at that, open the way distance and time had warped for her and the devil could talk to her, and rain begins to pelt them, falling mercilessly.

Soaking them.

She'd heard Todd clearly, speaking with such love in his voice. Where was the demon there? Where had _he_ gone? That voice was of a man who would never want to hurt her, who'd love her fully, forever, until the death of him. A man who would never hurt her babies, _their_ babies...never, never, never.

She can feel the heat coming off of the gun tucked into Dean's belt...and in her mind, she hears it blasting still. What she saw replays in her mind...shots fired mere inches from the little ones. Those men...dropping all around her _…_

 _Oh god..._

She shuts her eyes, as if she could turn the thoughts off that way. What's happening, what's been happening? God...how did she get here? How did she lose her understanding of Todd? Oceans apart now...how did she lose him? Where did they lose each other?

 _Yeah it's your fault. And now those boys, your precious boys, are MINE._

With horror, she knows where he has gone to. The demon is real, the demon has taken over… and it's _HER_ who gave him renewed life, who lit the path up for his vicious deliverance.

Except…

 _Delgado, no, no, don't listen. Don't! You have to protect them. You're the only one who can. You do whatever you have to do to protect our boys._

 _Do you hear me?_

 _DO YOU HEAR ME?!_

Dean sighs hard as he wraps his arms around her, his eyes covered over with a mixture of fading adrenaline and a quickly-sinking-in reality. He holds Téa tightly, trying to keep her from shaking to pieces.

"It's okay...it's okay, I gotcha...I gotcha," he whispers...but as the seconds pass, he knows it's definitely _NOT_ okay. He listens to her lamenting cries and in there, wrapped within the anguished moans, he hears the name of the one she has been running from.

"Todd...where are you? Where are you?"

 _We're in deep shit, Delgado...THAT'S where we are._

* * *

With a choking gasp, Todd shakes out of a sleep-he's been dreaming. He's in the SUV alone, and he thinks nothing of it. No, he's thankful for the solitude. He needs it because Téa's on his mind. He hugs himself because he's so wretchedly lonely for her and their boys. And he's so out of control-like the most vile and rabid of animals, just like RJ said. He almost cries at the mess he's in.

But the rage…

Hatred has consumed him and its essence runs all through him like a kind of blood. If he cuts himself, he's sure he'd see the red alongside long threads of black. It would be ugly and unmistakable.

He reaches beneath the seat and pulls out a six-inch blade tucked neatly inside a leather pouch. He withdraws it, admiring the strong wooden base, the steel's straight edge. He places it on his throat. He just knows the oily black will come once he gets through the skin, the veins, the arteries. He knows he'll see it spurting out all over his hands, and his body.

Shaking, he tries to cut...to slice crossways, except he can't.

"You're nothing but a chicken-shit," he growls, tucking the knife into the pouch...and sliding the thing into his boot.

He leans back and thinks of Roseanne… that… that...

 _...hellhound bitch._

It's her voice, Téa's. She's not angry-she says the words firmly. She's agreeing with him. He sees her so _...clearly._ As if he's looking into a crystal ball. He watches her silky brown hair flutter in a breeze, flyaway strands glimmering in a plentiful sun. She's smiling at him, so openly, so welcoming.

 _I love you, Todd Manning. Aren't they precious? They're us, our love._ _They're everything._

He smiles at the image and says aloud, "I love you, too, god, so much. I want you home with me...come home..."

But the picture fades and in seconds, it's gone. The futility of his supplication has blown the picture apart and he buries his head in his hands, crying, "I'm so lost...I'm dying out here without you. Hell, I'm already dead."

And just as quickly as it had come, the human side of him withers and the tears dry.

He takes a deep breath, accepting that he's alone. And he has to survive-he has to. More than that. He has to deal with the _hellhound bitch_ on the bitch's level. Beneath it. A bitter taste floods his mouth and he can feel Téa behind him and she says in no uncertain terms, in that pure voice unsullied by time, by history, by others…

 _...you do what you have to do to conquer the true demon. Go to her. Annihilate her._

"Yeah...snuff that bitch," he grumbles.

Raising his eyes to the windshield, he straightens up, puts his shoulders back.

 _Snuff her._

He sees RJ in the distance, across an unfamiliar, deserted parking lot, talking to a dark-skinned man in front of a run-down motel. It's still daylight, but neon lights are flashing, _"Sun and Sleep."_

He looks for Rosie, can't see her anywhere...but he can hear her.

 _Come on, my holy man...my holy demon...my incestuous kin. Come to me...and let us play our games and war with one another. Come snuff me out…_

… _so I can snuff you out in return._

Todd clicks open the door and his black steel-toed boots land hard on the gravel. He sniffs and runs a clammy hand through his long, stringy hair. He squares his shoulders and smoothes his long black coat. Training his muddy gaze on the men ahead, he starts walking towards them. And in his stalking the ground, he senses the energy he's giving off because RJ and the stranger turn to look at him, their expressions changing from friendly to defensive.

The big man on the right folds husky arms, his chin lifting.

RJ snarls, "So the dead walks."

"What's the plan, Gannon?"

"Plan? Gonna dump your vehicle and get a new one. And this fine gentleman's gon' help us."

The man RJ's with is massive, has short Afro-style hair, and sports two gold hoop earrings in each ear. He's blacker than night. His mouth spreads into a toothy grin and he says to RJ in heavy Jamaican, "A who dis? An wat debil spit im at?"

"This is my..." RJ tightens his lips like bitter shit just flooded his mouth at having to use the word, "... _partner_ , Todd Manning, and you got that right, definitely spit out by the devil himself."

Todd stares right at the stranger, unmoving.

And the man's smile fades. "How much da chuck cost?"

RJ intervenes, "He wants to know how much the truck's worth."

Todd looks at the SUV briefly, before saying, "Parts will get you a good 30k. Un-chopped, maybe less, maybe more. It isn't a big thing."

The man nods, gazing back at RJ, "An yuh wana cyar, ya?"

"Yeah...you said we can take the old Lincoln...and you'll arrange for the charter to London, right? Outta Philly?"

"Ya...can do. Yuh den can wait here...in da room and hab a drink an food. Later. My boy pick up da chuck."

The man ambles away, disappearing around a corner and RJ turns to Todd, his demeanor going from serious to plain old pissed-as-hell.

"Listen to me...I have a room here thanks to Benny. Got some clothes for Roseanne, for us, too. We're taking the car to the train station which will get us to Philly. From there, a private jet will get us to London. We got passports, you know, everything. We'll be there first thing in the morning."

He doesn't give Todd a second to answer. He still has the bitter shit in his mouth and hisses, "I don't want you fuckin' this up. It's MY ass on the line now. These are good people, and they're putting out for us, so...BEHAVE. Got it?"

"Ya..."

Todd mimics the Jamaican accent and RJ glowers at him. He doesn't trust Todd at all, feeling the heat coming off him, the kind of heat a man gives off when he's on the make to kill something. RJ knows that heat, the itch it would give him, back from his days in Joliet.

Benny had it right, Todd looks like the devil chewed him up and spit him right back out. RJ curses beneath his breath.

They start to walk. Todd scans the side of the motel, eyeing every door they pass as if he's scenting out prey and RJ finally stops at a door. He shoves a key into the lock and saunters in. It's dark and grey and much too warm.

Roseanne languishes on the bed, her hair wet from a shower. She's flipping through channels on a television that looks no less than twenty years old. She's wearing tan slacks with a blue button-down cotton shirt and he can tell she's got no bra on because she's purposely left buttons...undone. She's barefoot...one leg crossed over the other, and she's bouncing her leg, seductively gazing at Todd.

RJ is in the bathroom, standing at the window and talking to someone on the telephone. After a second, RJ slams the door shut, because Roseanne has raised the volume on the TV.

When that door clicks, RJ locking it, Todd shrugs off his coat and crawls onto the bed on all fours next to Roseanne, running his eyes down her body…

...and she grabs his hair at that, forcing him to look at her.

"You're gonna pay _, brother,"_ she hisses, "You're gonna fucking cry."

She lets him go, keenly aware of an ugly glint in his eye.

And _ugly_ is right. The pull of his hair shot straight to his dick and enraged him. He resists a compulsion to straddle her and punch the hell out of her. Resists a desire to drop open his fly and stick his dick in her mouth. To choke her with it.

Instead, still on his knees, he runs a finger along her jawline, delicately. He then grasps her cheeks firmly and sticks the tip of his index finger into her mouth, pushing it in just behind her teeth and pressing down on her tongue.

He's daring her to bite him, inflame him more than he already is, letting her know she's a piece of shit and he can in fact stick anything into her that he wants...and there's not a goddamn thing she can do about it.

Roseanne, infuriated, jerks her head. He refuses to let her go and only does once she smacks his shoulder with a balled-up fist.

"Get the fuck away from me," she rumbles, twisting her mouth in disgust from his finger.

He chuckles silently, knowing she's been intimidated, and he shudders with the high of it. He falls on his ass and sits up slightly, resting against the headboard of the bed. He watches the television, too.

The pictures flicker and he tries to think of what it's like to be on the other side of things-he can't remember. A woman on the screen makes smart comments to her lazy husband and the unseen audience laughs. A neighbor pops her head in the window and mouths off. More laughter.

What's so funny eludes him.

Moments before, Todd wept for a woman...for Téa...and now he can't recreate the yearning, the appreciation for her love and life and light. _Téa_ is just a goal to him, an end to justify the means or a means for his real end. She is something to keep an eye on until he can destroy Roseanne.

All he wants is to press a sweaty palm on top of the bitch's mouth, take a pistol, and blow her head off. But he knows he can't do that now _...no..._ he has to wait.

 _Patience is a virtue, doncha know._

As if sensing his wishes, Roseanne climbs on top of Todd, straddling him, just like he'd envisioned doing to her. She stares him down. He watches her and she raises her hands above her head...like she's dancing, making fluid movements. She begins to rock her hips, rubbing against him, and unbuttons more buttons on her shirt.

He watches her eyes, his lip lifting, showing his seething temper.

It's delicious to her. She smiles and takes his hand and places it on her bare breast… and grins when she feels the telltale sign of her work pushing upwards against her.

"Ohhh ...I like that… I can _feel_ how _angry_ you are."

She keeps riding him but he doesn't move, doesn't respond in any way other than the one thing he can't control ...and she bends down, putting her hands on both sides of him. She keeps up her movements, keeps rubbing her crotch against his erection. She sees his eyelids flutter just barely, hears his breathing pick up...just barely. She knows she's working him good and she knows he's making sure to give her the impression his body is only doing what's natural and he's got some kinda willpower that allows him to just lie there but she knows the truth, that his inaction isn't his real want. A few more hard rocking motions and he's going to come all over himself in spite of himself. She feels his cock throb, he's so close, and that's when she sits back up.

"Guess you're gonna have to finish that off all by yourself."

She takes in the hatred in his eyes...and quickly, derisively...

 **WHACK!**

...she slaps him solidly across the face. His head lurches to the right, hair falling in his face. He looks at her passively, his tongue licking the corner of his mouth, checking for blood. It would serve her right if he gives her another round of what happened in the laundry truck.

But now, _now..._ he has another rod to give her…

… and sure enough in seconds he's got her on her back with his hand around her throat. He's straddling her legs and has the blade pressed firmly against her breast, at her heart. One thrust and it's over.

"You like that, bitch?" he rasps breathily, lips wetted by another passing over of his tongue. He takes the blade and moves it down her chest and he points it right at her crotch. She's frozen...but her fury isn't any less than his.

"I'll fuck you with this blade," he whispers. "...fuck you right up through to your fuckin' bitch heart."

He breathes out in a cruel laugh and gets off of her. Gets off the bed. Sits roughly on a chair near the window. She's panting and her eyes shoot her own blades of hatred at him.

"You..." she's about to curse, but the words don't come.

And he smiles at her.

"You're gonna lose, darlin'," he says.

"Fuck you," she says before picking up the remote control, changing the channel, and casually buttoning her blouse. She crosses her leg and bounces her bare foot.

RJ opens the bathroom door and sees the two watching the mindless program...he glances at them and then starts talking on the cell again before shutting the door once again.

Todd's hungry suddenly and he gets up.

Roseanne watches him in the periphery of her vision.

"I'm going out, Gannon...I need food."

RJ opens the door and gives him an evil eye but Todd ignores it and steps outside, shutting the motel room door, shutting her behind it. He's relieved to find cool air. He walks across the parking lot, turning right to stroll along the sidewalk.

He passes duplexes, shacks, an apartment building. He steps inside the first eatery he finds, a cafe of sorts. It looks more like a bar and it suits him. He sees a couple of whores across the street and he's tempted for the first time in a long, long while to get one of them and let out all that hatred...just a little.

But he pushes all of it down inside of him. Tries to make the world feel normal, routine, regular.

 _Téa...Téa…_

He says her name under his breath and it's like someone has taken his tongue and cut the nerves to it. _Fractured. Split down the middle._ Her name is strange and foreign and speaks of a world that's turned its back on him.

 _You mean, the world YOU turned your back on._

 _Wake up, wake up._

He goes inside the dimly lit restaurant, its windows covered up with red blinds. Pictures of islands decorate the walls. Cover up marred paint. A thin black woman walks up to him, her graying hair tied up in a bandana, her clothes nothing but a wrap of sorts...and she says coolly,

"Wan a sit, white boy?"

"Yeah."

"Wan a drink, too?"

"Yeah...make it a double scotch. You got that?"

"Ya. We got dat."

She smiles at him in a peculiar way...like she knows him. And shows him a table in the corner of the place. There are few people at other booths and they turn briefly to study the stranger in their house as he walks past and sits down.

Todd glances at the short menu and doesn't recognize any of the food, not sure of what the dishes would taste like. But he's starving now...so he figures it doesn't matter.

The woman comes back with a glass and a bottle. She sets the two in front of Todd and he's wondering why she's given him the whole thing.

Then she sits across from him.

Normally, he'd be pissy and snarl something, but he simply looks at her. She closes her eyes and puts her hands on his… and when she opens them, she says in a low voice, "Yuh one of him chi'dren, I see dat."

"What're you talking about?"

He tries to pull his hands from her but she grips them powerfully. Keeping her coal colored eyes on his. "Yuh da white boy, who know da hands and breath a' da debil. Yuh got empowered by him bitter water on yuh. Yuh haf running through yuh da dark stuff...but it not too late for yuh to master it before it master yuh. Befo it kill yuh."

He's mesmerized by her and she smiles at him widely, her head knocking back in laughter. But she looks at him once more, her features softening, her eyes warming, and says, "Yuh could go one way or da other...and I see da war inside yuh, I hear it...like a hurricane on da shores o my Jamaica. An yuh lost in it...lost in da rain and da wet and wind. Yuh tought it dead, yuh tought yuh beat it. An it come back...loud and wild. A road split in two. Which way yuh gonna go? Nort'? Or Sout'?"

She furrows her brows and looks as if she's digging deep… "But...love not left, not yet, white boy. Don't kill it."

"How do I not?"

"Listen to her. Remember her."

"I can't remember anymore."

He looks down and she's let go of his hands and placed one of hers on the top of his head.

"You remember-it in dere, but wit each lash o your weapons, da memory fade."

She sits up and moved to his side of the booth and she reaches down into the darkness at his thigh, moves her hand below the table, and soon he feels her pull the blade out of his boot…

She sits up and sets it on the table.

"Use it...to kill da bad, but not da good."

She slides on the bench and gets up, standing next to him, asking him for his order as if nothing has taken place.

Todd looks down at the knife and mutters, "Give me the jerk chicken and rice." He pours the scotch and drinks it down quick, pouring again.

And again.

By the time the food gets to him, he's drifting and trying to remember his life after he was cured of his _disorder_ but it's useless. He's _fractured._ He's a road _split in two._

 _North or South? Which way you gonna go?_

He looks at the woman, helplessly, as she places the dish in front of him, and she says, "Yuh working too hard. It wi come. An it wi be da difference between mastering...and it mastering yuh...when da time comes. When it right."

He takes the blade and puts it back into his boot, in its pouch. When he's done eating, he's fully drunk and he drops cash on the table. He leaves the place behind him and walks a while, settling down on the curb because he doesn't want pass out in the bushes. He watches the sun sink into the horizon. And all he can hear is the sound of a baby's cry, a mournful wail.

 _Where are you, Téa? Help me remember again...what it's like...to be human. To be…_

 _Todd._

 **To be continued...**


	22. Chapter 22

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 22**

In the back seat of Dean's car, Téa rubs her nose against Brendan's cheek and caresses his cheek as she cradles Evan in her other arm. She's locked up tightly around them, rocking a bit, trying to comfort herself as well as them.

Cold air pours in from the space where the passenger side window used to be and she can hear all the noise from the gas station across the road. She looks up, out the driver's window, to see if she can see Dean. She doesn't, but she does see another car at one of the pumps and a couple, standing next to it. They catch her eye and Téa lifts her head a little higher. A subtle acknowledgement.

She watches them together, as they nuzzle each other and kiss a few times, their arms locked around each others' waists. They look so happy and normal _…_

… _everything that I'm not._

It feels so foreign to her now, like she's looking into another world at a couple of aliens. She's still staring at them when Dean emerges from inside the petrol station's market, sprinting across the road with two cups of coffee. Téa keeps her eyes on the happy couple for a bit longer, then her eyes drift to Dean. He gets in and quickly shuts the door.

"Here, drink this," he says, twisting around to hand her one of the cups. Téa stares at him for a moment with distant, glazed look, before doing anything. Then she carefully puts Evan back in his seat. Dean picks up on the numb vibe, noticing how not quite connected she is. It's like she's on a drug that's making her sluggish. She turns to him to take the cup, and he pulls it back just to get her to react.

It works.

Her eyes widen and she seems to wake up, giving him a bit of an angry look. Without a word, he hands the cup to her again, gently. She waits for a second in case he's going to pull the same trick again but he doesn't and so she takes it from him at last. She sits back in the seat, avoiding his eyes.

Dean lingers on her for a moment, then turns back around to start the car. Téa takes a sip from the cup, then she covers up the twins' seats with blankets before the wind starts rushing in again. She holds her coat closed around her neck, clutching the coffee with the other hand.

She studies Dean's reflection in the rearview, watching his eyes...the eyes of a man who just killed four people. Back in that awful field, she had also watched him...as he went about the business of hiding all of the bodies way out in the grass. He dragged them out one at a time; and then he simply reappeared, got back in the car, and they drove off.

 _Voilá._ No more thugs.

If Téa hadn't been there and seen it for herself she'd almost think nothing _had_ happened. _Almost._ But now, as she sits in the backseat with her children, she finds herself at a complete and total loss. Her brain has reached a shutdown point, and not a single thought occurs to her...about anything.

That is, other than the inexplicable _voices,_ the thoughts that compete with each other in her head. The threats to her boys, the love of Todd, the command to save the boys, the assurance that Téa and only Téa is at fault for everything that is happening.

 _The hellhound...he's nipping… growling… hungry… and he's moving so close to you. He wants the babies._

She tries to forget but…

 _Delgado, no, no, don't listen. Don't! You have to protect them. You're the only one who can. You do whatever you have to do to protect our boys._

 _Do you hear me?_

Dean takes his eyes off the road occasionally to look back at Téa who stares downward at nothing in particular. He worries for her… not only about what's happened and what it means for them… but also _about_ her. She seems to have checked out of her body. He feels badly, knowing she's scared shitless. But he also knows that he can't let her lapse into some trauma-induced funk. He needs her alert which is why he got her the coffee. But it doesn't seem to be helping. So he looks back at the road, searching for any place where they might be able to hide out for a while.

Téa finally looks up when the car stops. She looks out the window and sees that they're behind what looks like a small farmhouse. Dean glances at her in the rearview.

"Stay here. I'll be right back," he says, then he gets out and quickly walks away.

Téa follows him with her eyes, turning in the seat. She watches him disappear around the corner… then turns back around. She rubs her face, roughly, admitting that if it wasn't for Dean having enough _bad_ inside of him, she'd be dead. He dispatched four people without blinking an eye on regret. If it wasn't for him, the boys might be dead, too. There is just no denying this. He saved their lives.

He saved them.

 _You do whatever you have to do to protect our boys._

She then lifts the blankets to check on the boys. Both of them are awake and quiet, giving her these calm, trusting looks that make her feel terrible. Unable to handle it, she covers them up again, and leans forward on her knees, burying her face in her hands. She stays like that until Dean comes back, startling her when he opens the door.

"Come on. Let's go," he says, reaching for Brendan's seat. But Téa grabs his hand and stops him.

"What're you doing?"

Dean blinks, relieved to at least see the lights back on in her eyes. "We're at an inn. I'm stopping for a while so we can all rest."

Her eyes narrow suspiciously but after a second, she lets him go. He takes Brendan out, then gestures for her to hand Evan over as well. Again, she hesitates then gives in and unlocks the seat from the safety belt. She lifts the seat up and over.

"Get everything out that you need. We're ditching this car."

Téa chews her lip, furrowing her brow in worry at that, watching as he walks away with her boys. She has a sudden urge to run after him and take them back but there's no point. She's stuck. Stuck with him, stuck in this terrible, dangerous situation, hoping HE will do everything he has to do to keep them all alive.

She takes a stressed ragged breath then she quietly does what he says, grabbing the couple of bags they brought before leaving the car. She thinks she has everything but truth is she's too shell-shocked to think beyond what she can see. She walks around to the front of the house and steps through the old, wooden door. She stops once inside, taken aback by the cozy, inviting look of the place.

Instead of steely grays, the living room is warm, all dark woods and yellowy-orange light. She sees Dean at the base of the staircase, with an old woman, who smiles when she sees Téa.

"Hallo, my dear," the woman says, with a typical English politeness. She looks back at Dean and winks.

"You're very lucky."

Dean does a take at that then realizes what she's thinking. "Oh...yeah. Yes, I am," he replies, taking the key from her and picking the boys up again. "So it's upstairs to the left?"

"Yes. You should find everything you need, but don't hesitate to ring."

"Great, thank you," he says, gesturing for Téa to hurry up and follow.

"Yes, thank you," Téa adds, giving the old woman a tired smile as she walks past her.

"Do you need anything for the little ones?" the old woman suddenly asks; and Téa stops on the staircase, looking back down at her vacantly for a moment, then she shakes it off, trying to get her brain working again.

"Umm...yes, actually," she says, reaching into the tote bag she's carrying. She digs out two small bottles of formula. "Is there somewhere I can warm these up?"

The old woman smiles kindly, reaching up and taking them from her. "Oh, just give 'em to me, love. I'll take 'em to the kitchen for you, have 'em done right quick."

"Thank you so much," Téa says again, watching as she disappears into the darkened room behind the front desk. Then she trudges up the creaky old stairs, following Dean to their room. He's already inside when she catches up, setting the boys down on the bed. Then he quickly steps over to the windows and pulls the curtains closed. When he turns back around, he locks eyes with Téa and they share an uncomfortable look…

She turns to close the door. She leans on it once it's closed, letting her head rest on the hard wood, watching Dean as he dumps his duffel bag out, digging through the clothes for another shirt.

"Will you be alright by yourself for a while?" he asks, feeling her eyes on him.

"I suppose," she answers, looking away finally. Dean's head lifts at her deadpan, slightly annoyed-sounding tone. Then he pulls a t-shirt out of the pile of clothes.

"Look, I'm sorry about what happened back there. But I had no idea they were gonna come after me like that."

Still looking away, Téa just shrugs in response. She slowly walks over to the bed and lifts the blankets off of the boys' seats. She unbuckles them both, and lifts each baby out, laying them both down on the bed. The twins squirm around, stretching their arms and legs, both happy to be free of the seats. She smiles down at them, sadly.

"You believe me, right?" Dean asks, causing her smile to fade.

"Doesn't matter what I believe," she says coldly, putting the seats on the floor.

Dean stands up and walks to her needing more than her scaly response.

"What does THAT mean?"

Téa sits down on the edge of the bed, keeping her eyes on the twins. She shakes her head after a moment. "Nothing," she whispers.

Dean is quiet a moment then sighs noisily.

"This wad not my fault, Téa."

She looks right at him at that. "Really? Then whose fault IS it? MINE?"

He's rightly slapped by her words and he says, "No...of course not."

Téa glares at him but his calm response makes her regret snapping at him. She turns her attention back to the babies and he eventually walks into the bathroom. She hears the water running and shuts her eyes, feeling just all-around awful. She should be grateful but it's hard.

Because well… if she knew there'd be a _job…_

Dean comes back out after a few minutes, having changed shirts and cleaned up a bit. He glances at Tea's back as he grabs his gun and coat off of the chair, stuffing the gun in the back of his pants. Then he throws his coat back on as he heads for the door.

"I'm gonna get rid of the car. I'll be back. Don't open those curtains."

Téa just nods, but still won't look at him. Dean steps out, then pokes his head back in. "Oh, and don't talk to anybody if you don't have to. Okay?"

No response...he waits for a second, but still, nothing. "Tea?"

"Yeah. I got it," she replies, still refusing to look at him.

Dean shakes his head, ready to say something sharp but he really has no reason to. What did she do? Nothing. He has no business getting touchy. She did not ask for any of what happened today. And yet… he shuts the door, not quite a slam, but hard enough.

She stares at the door for a moment...then slumps down on the bed, stretching an arm over the twins, and curling up around them.

Next thing she knows, she hears a knock at the door. She sits up suddenly...a little too fast. "Yes, who is it?"

"Hallo, miss...I have the bottles for your little ones," the old woman answers.

"Oh...okay," Téa mutters, standing up slowly. She shuffles to the door and opens it, finding the nice old woman standing there with not only the bottles, but also a tray with tea and sandwiches. Tea's eyes widen in grateful surprise, smiling a little.

"Oh, but...I didn't ask for-"

"I know, miss. But you NEED it, that's plain as the nose on my face. May I?" she asks, gesturing to come in.

Téa nods, stepping aside. The old woman toddles in, setting the tray down on the table in the middle of the room. "There you go, miss. Bottles are nice and warm, and so's the tea."

Téa smiles gratefully, walking up to her. "Thank you so much," she whispers and the old woman's face softens.

"Oh, my dear. Forgive me for saying, but...you look absolutely dreadful."

Téa laughs at that immediately, a nervous reflex and she rubs her forehead roughly.

"Is everything alright?" the old woman continues.

Téa finally looks up at her again. "Let's just say...I've had a hell of a day. Hell of a month."

The old woman nods, sadly. "Yes...I can see that. Is there anything else I can do?"

Téa shakes her head. "I'll be fine," she replies and the old woman nods again.

She looks over at the bed and sees the twins lying there. "Oh, look," she says happily, walking to the bed. She touches their kicking feet, smiling wide. "Boys?"

"Yes," Téa says, leaning on the bed post.

The old woman makes nonsense sounds at them, playing with their feet some more. "What handsome lads you are," she says, and Téa smiles again. Then the old woman seems to realize that she's socializing too much and quickly straightens up.

"Well, I'll leave you to it, then."

She walks back to the door and Téa walks with her, giving her another smile as she closes the door behind her. She locks it up, and then walk to the table, staring down at the nicely-put-together tray. She's warmed by this simple gesture, feeling suddenly better. She takes one of the finger sandwiches and pops it in her mouth. Again, an unremarkable thing, but just the taste of it seems to take the edge off of her anxiety.

She wonders why… and then it occurs to her. All of this, the house, the old woman, the cozy rooms...it feels like a _home._ A place full of kindness and comfort… and safety. Things she hasn't felt in a while. Things she misses, even more desperately now.

She laughs a little to herself, wondering if her hostess' last name might be _Poppins._ Then she takes the two bottles and heads back to the bed to feed the boys.

* * *

The digital clock on the night table shows a bluish eight o'clock and Todd still hasn't returned from his apparent hunt for food. RJ has already finished dinner, he and Roseanne having eaten some take-out in the room, and he is antsy to get going. A charter plane to London waits on the tarmac in Philly...there's no time to waste. They have to get to the train station before nine for take-off at eleven. Waiting any longer puts Téa more at risk, provided she's still in London at all. Provided Rosie comes through on her supposed knowledge.

"Maybe someone killed him?"

Roseanne picks at her plate, picking out the chicken pieces buried in a heap of curried rice.

"No such luck," RJ grumbles, as he grabs the remote and turns the channels until he finds the news. "He's got more lives than a fucking CAT."

The guy on the screen finishes up on national events and moves onto local stuff. First story up is the breakout at the Llantano women's facility.

Roseanne is expressionless when her mug shot comes up and the gory details are presented. One guard was caught in friendly fire, a shot to his abdomen. He's listed as critical, prognosis unknown.

 _Great,_ RJ thinks...the simple deal has blossomed into a potential felony murder case. The search is on for Roseanne and she's considered armed and dangerous. RJ is relieved though when it's clear he and Todd weren't made out as her partners.

Just _two unidentified men_ is all they know. At least, that's what the media says.

Roseanne pushes her dish away. Now she looks affected. RJ clicks the TV off and walks to the window, pushing aside the curtain, but doesn't see Todd.

The car's been promptly delivered, though, a testament to how much he can trust his contacts. The plane would definitely be ready for him.

"Damn..."

Finally, he can't deal with the fruitless waiting and tells Roseanne to get her things. They have to go.

RJ takes their bags and hurries to the Lincoln parked just outside the room, stuffing the bags inside. The keys are sitting unceremoniously on the front seat. He takes them, locks the car, and starts hauling ass down the block because Todd has to be nearby since he had no transportation.

Roseanne follows, shuffling her feet, hoping for some distance except RJ hisses at her to keep up. Every so often, she glances at RJ who keeps a close eye on her. What he can't control are her thoughts… and she's working them, she's visualizing an empty room… and pain _… lots_ of pain. It's the only thing that lifts her heart.

After some minutes, she says, "I think I hear him. He can't sing for shit."

That's when RJ hears it, too. A really bad rendition of _"99 Bottles of Beer,"_ And RJ realizes it IS Todd and he sounds drunk. _Awfully drunk._

"Oh motherFUCK...I don' need this shit. Swear ta'god...when this is over..." He doesn't finish his thought because he's in complete disbelief that Todd's going off the deep end, this way. They have so much to do and this WAS all his idea _...and what the fuck?_

Roseanne laughs, enjoying the complication, because this _IS_ complicated. Carrying a half passed-out Todd to the car, then the train...and then getting him on the plane will not be easy. And it plays perfectly into Roseanne's hopes for what they'll find in England.

 _Or not._

She envisions the pain the delay's gonna cause and it's like dipping a finger in honey.

Savory...sweet _...messy._

She ignores the dangerous ramifications, the fact that Todd's condition might draw unwanted attention. Nope...she's an optimist.

Which makes her laugh more, RJ glowering at her. He moves towards the off-key voice and, sure enough, finds Todd lying back on the sidewalk with his legs sprawled onto the street, his arms spread out.

"Thir-y- do bahlls a beer on a wall, thir-y do...thir-y three? Bahlls a beer...thir-y do bahlls a beeeeeeerrrr...take one down-an-pass-it-aroun'...thir-y bahlls a beer on a wall…

"Get up," RJ hisses.

Todd smiles upwards, his eyes barely open, "Heyyyy...is RJayyy...Misser Gannon hisself. Heyyyyy...I'm good, you know...so gooooood."

"Christ. Rosie, gimme a hand," RJ says, as he reaches down to pull Todd up. "Why are you doin' this to me, man? What do I look like, your goddamn mama?!"

RJ can smell the whiskey and sees the smashed bottle a few feet away, along with a discarded paper bag. It's a good thing the place is quiet, people keeping to their houses. But still, the blatant drunkenness - it's like Todd _wants_ to get arrested for public intoxication.

 _Or for something else._

The two of them get Todd to his feet and RJ decides that instant they're skipping the train and going to drive straight to the airport. He'd been thinking a switch would be a better cover but there's no way Todd's gonna get on the train unseen _or_ unnoticed in this state.

"Come on, Manning...get with it...shit..."

Todd stumbles and RJ strains to keep him on his feet. Roseanne is barely holding him, eager to see him fall on his face. The moon's shining down on them and RJ looks around, getting nervous. He ducks his head instinctively when a car slows near the trio and moves on. They're such an odd grouping that even the Fallstown cops will get suspicious.

RJ's sweating bullets, now. And Roseanne's Cheshire-cat grin isn't helping things. So he tries to remind her of the real world.

"If that guard dies, Roseanne...it's your ass that's gonna get fried."

"Yeah...and I'll sing like a bird."

"You don't have anything on us. We got positive alibis. You got nothin'."

She shuts up...because she knows RJ's talking the truth. Up until now Todd had been quietly singing his song, dragging his feet and keeping his eyes closed. His head lolls up and down like a marionette...like someone repeatedly dropping the string holding him up. But then RJ notices Todd turn towards Roseanne, peering at her from beneath his lethargic eyelids. And he starts chattering...nonsense at first, almost gibberish. His head goes back down and he's about to drop. But his words get clearer…

"What...what...whatcha think you doin' Ro? You...an' your witchy shit...you and your voodoo fuggin _...shit._ I'm'a take care a' you. Today, bitch...that wasn't nothin' to what I can do. You think that hurt? You think you got cut? Nothin at all. Fug you right up through to your heart...hahahaha...you gonna learn all 'bout ME. You gon' see me in your dreams...but they ain't dreams, bitch...you fuggin' bitch...bitch...you think you got to me… and you don' know jus how I get to _you_. Tha's right. I see you run like hell...you running scared… so fuggin scared. What she do to you for you to FUCK with her? What Téa do? Huh? Huh? What she do to you to FUCK with her head?"

Todd almost starts to cry, but then he switches gears, laughing, as they make their way past a restaurant where a woman stands in the doorway.

She clicks her tongue through her teeth, saying softly, "It's gonna get you, white boy."

RJ glances back at her, but she's gone inside.

Then he asks Roseanne, "The hell is he talking about? You messing with Téa?"

Roseanne shrugs and keeps walking, struggling now because Todd's putting more weight on her. He's talking to her. "Tha' wasn't rape, ya bitch. You'd know if I do that ta' you...'cause you never fuhget it...never, never...you'd be hurting something awful..."

Now RJ turns his head and eyes Roseanne, biting down hard with impatience, with the truth spilling out like the ugliest of garbage…Todd kicking at it for everyone to see.

Roseanne says nothing...but Todd goes on, the walk to the car getting longer with every moment.

"You think what we're doin is natural? You think this is NATURAL? It's not...it comes straight from fuggin hell...from Satan hisself...the big man and he's got his cum all over you, ya fuggin cunt. 'Cause thas what you are, you're his cunt, bitch...thaz it...and you're so gonna die..."

Todd turns, stopping his faltering walk, and whispers heavily in Roseanne's ear, "I see it. I see your death clear as _fuck_."

He moves his hand to his head, pointing at his temple.

"Right here...and it's gonna happen 'cause I'm gonna see to it that you die for all of this and don't think I don't know where she is now 'cause I do know. I see what you see, I see it for myself...ya fuggin voodoo bitch-cunt..."

Roseanne's had enough and she drops her burden hard, Todd falling roughly into a heap since RJ drops him, too, as RJ's done with the games.

While Todd tries to get back up, cursing at having hit the ground so abruptly, RJ grabs Roseanne by the arm and says, "WHAT is going ON?!"

"Nothing...he's drunk off his ass and he hates me. Isn't it obvious?"

"No...it's not. He's talking some pretty crazy shit, yeah...but you know...more I listen, girl, more I think it's not so crazy. So why don't you tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"What you did to Téa, what you're doing NOW with Todd...and last but not least! You tell me where the hell she is! Because let me tell you, I do NOT wanna be flyin' across the goddamn Atlantic Ocean on a wild goose chase! Especially now with a murder rap in the air!"

RJ has pulled his gun out and is pressing it against Roseanne's stomach. She's looking him in the eyes and she knows he means what he's threatening.

Todd has collapsed on the asphalt, passed out cold. Good thing though the Lincoln's only yards away.

Roseanne is shivering...something she can't control. And she reaches out for RJ, holding onto his shoulders, like a boxer trying to pause the rumble. Buying time.

"TALK!" RJ yells.

"Okay...okay...look, it's hard to explain, but Todd and I...see...for some reason...we can..." She pauses and looks over at Todd on the ground and just knows RJ will laugh his ass off when she tries to tell him the truth...either that or he'll pull the trigger, thinking she's bullshitting him.

She sighs and looks back up. "We know each other well, how we think. Do you get that?"

"Yeah...so?"

"Well...it's just that...because of that, we communicate...we..."

RJ shakes his head, looking around quickly. Getting really impatient.

Roseanne sees that and changes tactics, giving him what he really needs to know and all that he really cares about.

"Téa's with Dean outside of London, about twenty miles south in a town called Cantshire...305 Filinger Road, it's a cottage."

She rattles it off like it was her social security number and RJ nods, somewhat impressed.

"Uh-huh...and what's going on here?" he asks, waving the gun between her and Todd.

Roseanne grins...since RJ's satisfied with the solid information. She can see that. So she gives him something raw and disgusting...to turn his stomach...to stir the sewage-filled waters.

"We're _fucking_...and he hates himself for it. We've been doing it since I got to town oh-so-long-ago. He hates me, he hates himself, 'cause in the end, he can't keep his dick away from me. And I can't wait to tell Téa every little detail of it. I can't wait for him to finally get what's coming to him."

RJ releases her, looking exactly as disgusted as Roseanne wanted him to. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling dirty.

Though he suspected it, he's not that sure it's true. It's plausible, but not believable. He'd been thinking it. But to hear Roseanne say it out loud…

 _No..._ while he doesn't presume to know Todd's internal mental workings, impossible to get _there_ as RJ's just not that bad...he does know Todd's not the cheating type. That's the truth.

But then...on the other hand, RJ knows Todd has used sex as a weapon...and so…

He can't possibly get the facts now. And they have to get the hell out of town.

RJ sticks the piece back into his belt and struggles to gets Todd over onto his shoulder, walking to the car once he does. He lets Todd slide down, resting him up against the front fender as he unlocks the door. Then, not easily, he shoves the fully unconscious Todd into the back seat.

Pausing, he orders Roseanne to get into the front seat, which she does. RJ gets in, too, and starts the engine, the car sounding buttery smooth, running like a dream down the road and out of Fallstown.

The road to Philadelphia is devoid of traffic...and the moon is a ghostly one. It lights up the trees along the side, the headlights lighting up the dividing lines. RJ turns the radio on searching for more news and finds what he's looking for.

The story still hasn't changed, but he does hear the cops picked up on a clue laid by his contacts in Fallstown, a claim Roseanne was spotted in a tan Jeep with three men headed west. Hot pursuit apparently. He chuckles and switches the station to some old-fashioned 1970's funk.

 _Yeah...sounds good._

Glancing over, he sees Roseanne dozing and hears Todd's light snoring in the back. He's grateful for the tranquility...but not for the anxiety making his stomach tighten into knots.

His mind drifts to Téa and Dean and he can't understand why she's with this guy. He goes over and over it, but can't grasp why she'd turn to him. She must've felt she had no other option—he can see her mindset on that. She was scared with those brand-new babies...and scared of Todd…

Which surprised RJ, really. That seemed to come out of nowhere. That's right, smack out of the blue. Although his words were muddled, Todd implied Roseanne had something to do with it. And yet, Roseanne supposedly had this hot affair with him, but didn't tell Téa about it?

She could hardly wait to tell her the details, as in… she'd be telling her in the future… so, no, the "affair" wasn't going on before. That was a lie.

So Roseanne must have done something _else_ to Téa. For that piece of the puzzle, he'd have to get Todd to talk. After he got him to admit to messing with Roseanne...in some pretty repulsive way.

And with that, he finds himself incredibly sad for Téa. There was a time he loved her, was _in love_ with her, but once she made her choice, he respected her for it. He grew to love her in another way… and he missed that friendship.

Wished she'd trusted him more.

"Damn...I hope you're all right, Téa… I hope we're in time."

 **To be continued…**


	23. Chapter 23

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 23**

It hadn't been too bad getting Todd onto the plane. They made it just in time for the eleven o'clock scheduled flight of the massive jet that was exporting goods in the cargo hold. The passenger section was nice _...really nice._ Food plentiful, drink plentiful, high quality monitors for watching movies, and music, too. The chairs were leather and expansive and damned comfortable. The jet was meant for high-class transportation of heavy-hitters in the Jamaican mafia.

The pilot, one of Benny's men, helped carry Todd out of the car, dumping him on one of the reclined airplane seats. He'd chuckled about it, thought nothing of it. RJ realized it probably wasn't the first time the pilot had taken an unconscious body on board.

He wondered though, how many times those unconscious people actually made it to their destination.

The plan was to land in Gatwick airport where the plane would be boarded by customs officials and where their papers would be checked. Very easy, very low-key. A car waited for them, and from there, off to Cantshire. Off to the house where Téa was.

 _Supposedly._

Within minutes, the plane moves along the runway and whoosh, like nothing, they're airborne. The cabin lights dim and Roseanne settles into her seat beneath a blanket. Shutting her eyes.

The three are separated within the passenger area, space and other seats keeping them apart. RJ decides to take advantage and sleep, too, sliding quickly into a deep, exhausted, much-needed slumber.

A couple of hours later, with a sniffle or two, Todd stirs in his sleep…

He sees Roseanne in the dream-world, her mouth open in a strangled scream, a bullet in her chest. She's falling, falling...and Téa is screaming, the boys are crying. And in that same world, Todd's standing with something in his hand. He can feel the power surging through him and he grins at it…

… he's got it all, now.

He walks over to Roseanne's prone body and without hesitation, he pulls the trigger, her head exploding, leaving nothing but a shuddering torso and limbs.

When he wakes up, Roseanne is next to him. Staring him in the eyes. She raises her finger to her lips and whispers, "Let's not wake RJ." Todd's still in a dreamy place and still drunk and still riding high on the rush of killing Roseanne. He's stoned on that thought.

Roseanne can see the gruesome image in his head and she smiles.

"I can see YOUR death, too. Picture it, baby..."

With that, Todd sees Dean Shelton with a rope in his hand, stalking across a concrete floor towards him. In seconds, Dean has the rough cord wrapped around Todd's neck and is pulling it tighter and tighter, Téa mere feet away, watching. She's not smiling at all...she's serious...observing Todd struggle desperately to breathe.

And it's so real, his chest tightening, spasms ripping through him. He reaches for Dean's head but he can't do much because he's so weak, so focused on not being able to catch a breath of air. And then the boys...they crawl to him and settle on his lap, clinging like monkeys to his body. Sucking on their thumbs. And he stops fighting because he doesn't want the boys to let go...it's the only bit of love left for him.

And then it's done. Things go black...

When he looks at Roseanne, he shakes his head, not understanding why she's done this thing, why she's ruined everyone's lives. He says in simple words, "It won't be me taking a last breath. It's gonna be you. I SEE IT."

"And if it is, if your vision is right, I will revel knowing that you'll live alone forever, that Téa will never be free of the images I've given her. She will always be lost to your love."

"Why?"

"Because that's the way of the world."

Todd reaches for Roseanne and caresses her hair and she leans into his hand, closing her eyes, like a cat, but then he grabs the locks in his fist. He watches her features contort in pain as he pulls her closer to him. He's sort of in awe of how little value he places on Roseanne as a human being. He knows she's not to be wasted or belittled or damaged in any way. The Bible prohibits such things, as do the laws of states and countries.

He contemplates the notion of treasuring her life...and it's just so _laughable_.

She touches his face, pressing her fingers hard on his lips. Then she folds her fingers so her nails slide along his cheek. He moves his head to escape her. But she's not letting him go. She scrapes the skin of his neck, leaving long, spidery marks.

"So tell me," she says in a low, dangerous tone, "if that WASN'T rape back in the truck...what is? What would you have to do to MAKE it _...rape?"_

"You want to know what *I* call, 'rape'? Is that your question?"

"Yes... 'cause I find it impossible to believe that today wasn't _that._ I said no. You went forward anyway. But then maybe we should put the question to TÉA. Let HER decide if it was or not."

His features are calm to the threat, and his eyes remain somewhat sleepy-looking. It's incredible, her talking like this while he has her hair in his hand. Perhaps his lethargy fools her. So he grips her hair harder, tighter...and he moves his other hand to her upper arm. His gaze drops to her mouth and the tip of his tongue runs along his bottom lip.

"I can explain the difference," he purrs...and before Roseanne can react, before she can think of something to one-up him, he's on his feet, still gripping her.

"Todd—"

It's too late...Roseanne starts to scramble for safety, except it's almost as if she's weightless in the way he picks her up, in the way he twists her around so her feet are dragging on the carpet. She feels like a rag doll in the way he closes his arm around her neck and smashes a hand across her mouth…

...as he moves her to the back of the plane.

RJ is sound asleep, dead to everything. They are thousands of feet in the air. There's no one to hear her struggle.

He throws her on the floor, straddling her immediately, putting all his weight on her, and he reaches back and hits her fiercely on the side of her head to remind her who's in control. Then he hits her again from the other direction.

And Roseanne cradles her skull because a few more hits that hard and she _will_ black out.

He bends over her and presses his hand around her scrawny throat.

Hisses in her ear, "You will hurt before you feel me...you will know that there is no such thing as 'NO.' You will see DEATH when you feel me fucking you. You'll WISH for it. You will know that you're being murdered by me...and not, not...NOT being played with. THAT'S rape, you stupid bitch. My rape...of YOU."

Her eyes water with an animal fury and she tries to move, but he won't let up on the pressure of his body or his hands. And she begins to panic because he's grinning...and he's adjusting himself… moving his knees… and getting up onto his elbow… a free hand running down her body.

And then he's yanking down her pants and she wants to scream except his hand is pushing on her larynx so nothing comes out. She fights him hard as he nimbly unclasps his buttons...and she can see the grin has gone...and there's nothing but blackness in his eyes.

She knows deeply this is not Todd Manning, simple as that. This is not the man Téa Delgado married, loves. This is someone else entirely, this is...

 _...pure evil..._ whole...in person. In the flesh.

It is the force she's been playing with, the dark force she claimed as her own. How foolish she was. Oba warned her.

The being lying between her forced-apart thighs growls at her, "I am the one who gives you Power. I am the one you worship. You are my whore… you're my bitch. It is to ME you sing lullabies of death, it is ABOUT me you dream. You want to BE me. But you never will be. You will forever be...NOTHING."

She's screaming silently, knowing the physical, psychic power of the dark side, knows that she's only a pawn to it.

 _Where is the weakness in the devil,_ she asks herself. _Focus, focus...where is he weak?_

But nothing's coming to her as she feels his erection, as he compresses the bones in her neck...and she's dying, she realizes, shaking helplessly like a pine tree in a firestorm… a worthless piece of molecular chance who was born powerless, lived powerlessly, and played with fire like a child with matches. Now, she's a victim to a raging wildfire...out of control _...unnatural._

And then she's crying, crying out, and the torture lasts forever, the ferocious tearing apart of her body and soul never seeming to end, her back rubbed raw by the carpet as he continues the onslaught…

He is killing her and the pain is nothing like she's ever felt in her entire life.

 _My god, my god, stop, please stop..._

But then, suddenly, as fast as it started, he's done. And off. He stands above her, stuffing the python back into his jeans and buttoning up, black eyes glowering down at her. He then stalks away from her, a man's body taking up space, a demon's soul taking up even more. Wetness seeps from in between her legs and she doesn't know if it's real or in her mind, if it's semen or blood or something altogether different. And the shadow slides back into Todd's seat...and she's left a puddle of skin, blood, bones, liquids. She's a tangle of imaginings ... dreams … and brutal reality. She wishes for strength and survival.

She wanted Téa to suffer because she was born lucky. She had love, money, everything. She tamed a monster. Téa...was a powerful being. She was everything Roseanne wasn't. It hadn't been fair.

Roseanne reaches down and pulls up her pants, sniffling. Regretful. It was wrong, all wrong. How had she been fooled into thinking she could beat him _-them?_

She knew now that he had only been playing with her in the laundry truck and the motel room. He taught her well the difference between _that_ and _this_. She lurches, every part of her agonizingly sore, hardly able to walk, and falls into her seat. Buckles herself in. Stares into the starry night as the plane careens towards London over a black ocean. She has officially lost another battle in the game she'd started with Todd—no, not Todd.

 _With a demon._

She has nothing more to lose and now she'll be grasping at straws to wield pain wherever she can. But it will no longer be for the purpose of victory. These lashes will be her final gasps.

When she turns to see if Todd had been _...real..._ she finds him wide awake, watching her with shining bright eyes. They are beautiful, almost green, and full of life. He's smoothing his unshaven chin. Unmoved. Not having broken a sweat. He reaches down and adjusts his cock in his black jeans.

"I see what you see," he says. "And I forgive you... _your_ weaknesses. Because you are so very weak."

She averts her eyes, drawing up into her chair, and soon drifts to sleep. There, she skates along clouds of asks for release from a hell of her own making. She hears no answers and receives no promises.

Todd looks out the window and touches lifeless glass. Stares at his own shattered reflection, saying beneath his breath, "I forgive you, I forgive you, _I...forgive...you."_

* * *

Téa listens to the sounds of the water moving around her in the tub, finding it suddenly interesting that all bathrooms everywhere seem to have the same acoustics. Everything echoes, even though bathrooms are typically small spaces. This bathroom, on a different continent, sounds just like the bathroom at home.

 _Home..._ a word that keeps appearing in her mind, more and more. But even though the penthouse is the place she's currently thinking of, she has to wonder if it really is a home now.

She knows Todd is not there and the penthouse seems to die when he's not in it. She'd been there during those times when he'd disappear. The place would darken to a point where it was almost pitch black and it would freeze like a tomb.

But when he returned, the place came back to life. Light, color and at least some warmth seemed to find a way back in, even though Todd wasn't exactly what one would call a ray of sunshine.

She smirks at that thought, at him, suddenly remembering every smart-ass, irreverent thing he ever said or did that made her laugh, all the things that made her love him.

But almost immediately, her smirk fades away as she remembers all the other things he said and did that pissed her off, upset her to the point of a meltdown, or made her fear him. She's flooded with a sudden feeling, an awareness of him being lost...

 _God...what do I do now? How do I fix this...?_

She lets out a long sigh at that, splashing some of the tepid bath water on her face. She wipes the water away with wet hands, her fingers interlocking behind her neck, feeling as if she's sitting in a mess of puzzle pieces. Trying to organize it, assemble it-but none of the pieces fit together. And the only thing she knows for sure is that she has to solve it.

If the day's events proved nothing else, it was that life with Dean was no better an option than life with Todd.

She and the boys came _thisclose_ to getting shot. She shuts her eyes at that, shivering at the memory of being dragged through the field. The stiff, dead grasses ripped up her clothes and skin. She can still feel the cuts on her arms and legs stinging, a reminder that isn't likely to go away anytime soon. No, the scene will stay with her, haunt her...except there's more to it. There's something else accompanying it...another, matching… horrific picture.

 _She's being dragged helplessly across a carpet in a long hallway to be devoured miles from anyone who can help. A shadowy demon is killing her...murdering her... ripping her apart… teaching her a lesson in the art of domination. He is deep inside of her, hunched over her, all his weight on her, large hands at her throat. He is grunting, saliva seeping onto her neck as he forces himself towards the inevitable end._

She huffs and shakes her head to clear the awful scene in her head. She feels it all over her body, wondering where in the hell such a vivid picture is coming from. The realness of it is disconcerting. Almost as if she's lived it, but she hasn't. She's _lucky_. In an effort to escape the thought, she refocuses on Dean. Swishing the water around, breathing in the warm air.

He'd done exactly what had to be done, with the efficiency of a true professional. _Efficiency ..._ normally a good thing ... but not in this case. At least not for her would-be killers. If he had not dispatched those men, they would have dispatched her and the twins. And him.

Dean saved them all again and she's still desperately thankful for it.

But at the same time, it doesn't sit right with her. Perhaps because she knows it was a preventable situation. Had she not _been_ there in the first place, it wouldn't have happened.

 _A lesson in domination..._ she shivers...rethinking _...what would have happened?_

Another memory comes back to her, the recurring nightmare...or vision. She sees Evan and Brendan barricading themselves in a bathroom, pitting their measly weight against that of their father's who would tear down the door and pick them up by the scruffs of the necks and bash their heads open against a tree, teaching them all about _domination_.

Téa lets out a pent-up sob at that, at how hopeless this situation seems.

 _Run one way, hit a wall. Run the other and hit another. Dammit...I'm stuck...stuck, stuck, stuck._

She hears the door open and close outside. So she sniffs her tears back and splashes more water on herself before draining the tub. She pulls herself up and towels off, stepping out and over to the misty mirror. She wipes a spot clear, and takes a long, hard look at herself, her wet hair plastered to her head, her face pale, dark circles under her eyes. The sight is awful and reflective of how she feels.

Sick. Empty. Hopeless.

She shuts her eyes, wishing she could take the boys and just float away, up and out of the mess she's trapped in. Get in a big balloon and untie the strings like the Wizard of Oz, back to lovely Kansas. _Up, up and away._ Except she feels more like Dorothy right now, watching the Wizard float away without her, leaving her stranded. And she doesn't even have those great shoes or that pink witch to 'magic' her back home.

 _Home..._ that word again.

She shakes her wet hair at that and rubs her face roughly then goes to put her clothes back on. Holding the pants up, she sees how trashed they are. Holes and mud stains all over, same with the shirt. She didn't realize it was that bad. No wonder the old lady was worried about her. _Shit._ She rolls the clothes into a ball and grabs the towel back off the rack. She wraps it around herself and runs a hand over her hair before opening the door.

Through the escaping steam, she sees Dean by the window. He's pulled one of the chairs up to it and has it tipped up so he can lean against the wall. He sits to one side, holding the curtain open a tiny bit to peer out. He doesn't look at her or say anything.

Téa tosses her ruined clothes on the floor by her bag and starts digging around for something else to put on. She finds that modesty and proper etiquette are way down there on the list of important things at the moment. The towel stays in place but she doesn't really care. She puts the bag aside and goes over to the bed, checking the twins. She adjusts the pillow-crib around them and gently runs a hand over the fine hair on their heads. Then, she glances at Dean...the edges of him lit by the moon.

"Is everything okay?" she asks.

Her tone is low and her voice quiet but it cuts right through the silence. Dean turns quickly, startled.

"Define 'everything'," he says, after a moment.

Téa actually laughs a little at that then shakes her head. "That is SO not funny. But I'm laughing anyway. How messed up is THAT?"

She walks around to the other side of the bed. She makes some room on the edge of the mattress, and sits down, draping an arm around the bedpost.

Dean smiles, "Well, you know what they say. If you don't laugh, you'll cry."

Téa shrugs sadly, "I suppose so."

"Yeah, well. I think we qualify as being pretty damned pathetic right about now." Dean leans forward, setting the chair upright again. Then he slides forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Thanks for getting room service, by the way."

She looks back at him. "Hm?"

He gestures toward the tea tray and she waves it off. "Oh, that wasn't me. That nice old lady brought it by."

"Oh," he replies...a little concerned. "You didn't-"

"Tell her anything? No, of course not."

He sighs, seemingly relieved. "Good."

"Why...did you think I WOULD?" she asks, suddenly accusing, suddenly fiery angry that he'd think she was such an idiot.

"No!" he snaps, before waving his hand apologetically and tiredly saying, "You don't have to actually SAY anything to put someone on notice. All I DO know is that we have a lot of pissed-off folks after us and the LAST thing we need right now is that 'nice old lady' calling Scotland Yard."

As before, his level-headedness-even his exasperation-forces her to back down. She shakes her head, realizing how mercurial she's being and how it's not helping things any.

 _There better be an "us."_

He adds, correcting his own moodiness. "Look, I'm not saying you'd do anything on purpose. We gotta be really careful." Then a truth. "You're not used to being a fugitive. You have no idea what might trigger a nice old lady."

 _Well… wow,_ she thinks, gobsmacked, thinking about her clothes, what made the inn owner bring the food.

"You're absolutely right," Téa says softly. Swallowing visibly. She looks at Dean, slightly afraid now.

"Don't worry, I'm sure it's fine. But… tomorrow we're just a tired traveling happy family."

Dean eyes her for a moment then he gets up and walks over to the tea tray, eating a couple more sandwiches. He touches the teapot...still warm. So he fixes a cup for himself and one for her.

Téa hears the delicate clinking of a spoon and turns toward him as he hands her one of the dainty little cups. She takes it, and sips, wrapping her fingers around the warm porcelain. Dean, on the other hand, downs the tea like a shot … then he glares at the cup.

"Who do they make these cups for, anyway? Little girls?" he asks, shaking his head. He pours himself another shot of tea and inhales it.

Téa looks at him with a small grin. "I should've asked her for beer."

"Damn straight. Could use one...or twelve," he mutters, walking back over and sitting on the chair again. He covers his face with his hands for a moment. "Yeah, maybe that's what I need to do...get good and plastered. Maybe THEN I can figure out how the hell to get us out of this mess."

His words are muffled. And as Téa studies him, she finds her emotions and thoughts are all over the place: lingering anger about what happened, the job he shouldn't have done, urges to smack the hell out of him, a desire to run from him, gratefulness for his gun and gumption to kill four killers, thanking God he found this cozy inn.

At the center of the chaos in her head, a cold rage runs through her too, directed at _him,_ a fury that makes her think stabs to his chest, bullets at his skull, ugly ugly hate. But with a sigh, she knows the rage doesn't belong to her, it belongs to Todd.

And suddenly it's as if he's here, looking at Dean _through_ her. It makes her feel guilty, makes her miss Todd's mad love for her and makes her think that wherever he is, he needs her.

 _Terribly._

The guilt gnaws at her, but it floats alongside something else, her empathy for Dean. The closeness they now share has a power of its own now, despite all that's happened, because of all that's happened. It is a force that won't sink beneath the opinions of others, including Todd. She watches Dean closely, the lift and drop of his shoulders as he breathes, his hands still covering his face.

He's trying, but he's not the picture of know-it-all professionalism now, that's for sure, and while that should probably worry her...it doesn't. In fact, it makes her feel better. To see _him_ quiet like this, worrying, unsure of what to do, makes him all the more human and supports _her own_ judgment for once, instead of chipping away at it.

Dean finally drops his hands and sits back in the chair, looking over at her with eyes she can barely see. But it doesn't matter. "Look," he says, almost whispering, "I know you've been through hell today...but...we gotta figure some things out."

Téa just nods, encouraging him to continue.

"That guy you saw me talking to...I've known him for years. He's the one who hired me for the job. He was the one most directly in charge of the whole thing, so...the fact that he would risk his own neck to come all the way out to fuckin' Cantshire, only the complete opposite direction of where he was going-" he stops to let out a ragged breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I gotta tell you, Téa… I've never seen anything like that before. Never. I mean, that kind of bloodbath is EXACTLY the kind of thing true professionals try to AVOID."

Téa takes that in, looking away for a moment, then back at him with a questioning look. "Why do you think he did it, then?"

"He was convinced you'd talk," he replies, with a shake of his head. "But he was the one who got you into the country in the first place."

"He was?"

He nods, talking more to himself now, thinking aloud. "When I asked him to do it, he DID try to talk me out of it. I knew he didn't feel too good about it, but if he felt THAT strongly, he would've just refused and left it at that. And besides, I've never given him any reason to doubt my judgment. So...I'm guessing that someone ELSE on the crew got him paranoid."

Téa inches forward a bit. "So what does that mean?"

"It means we can't get on that boat. He's probably got guys waiting for us there, too."

Téa's shoulders sink. "So we're trapped here?"

Dean lets his head drop back against the chair. "Until I can think of something, yeah. And right now...I can't think of a single goddamned thing."

The room goes quiet again. Téa turns around and looks at her sons, sleeping away inside the square of pillows. And there's only one word coming to mind…

 _home...home, home, home, home…_

She turns back around suddenly, with the beginnings of an idea...and Dean sees it. "What?"

Téa holds up a finger, trying to think it through before talking. Then she nods to herself, and looks at him. "Yeah...I think it'll work."

"What will?" he asks, leaning toward her, head tilted with curiosity.

"We go back to the States."

Dean's eyes pop and he blurts out an incredulous "What?" before Téa holds up her hand.

"Just hear me out. We go to Montana...we have a new house there. Probably not quite finished yet, but...nobody would bother us, because no one would think to look there."

Dean just stares at her, taking it in with an unreadable look.

"...and this way, it'll be an easy jump to Canada for you. Just a short drive and you're gone. Or… you can head south to Mexico."

"An easy jump for ME," he says, and she nods. "Well, why bother with the States when we could just go to Canada directly?"

She doesn't say anything. It takes a moment and a deep breath for her to continue. "Because I won't be going to Canada with you. I'm taking the boys home."

Silence hangs heavy in the air and after a moment, Dean just nods. But whether it's to her or to himself, Téa can't tell. Then he gets up and Téa watches him step toward the door.

"Dean, wait...just..." she stutters, but he doesn't listen anyway. He simply walks out, closing the door quietly. But even that sounds loud and jarring to her like a judge banging a gavel. A definite end.

"Shhhit..." she whispers, burying her face in her hands.

* * *

An hour goes by...an hour and a half...two...and Dean still isn't back. Téa sits in the chair that he was sitting in, sitting by the window the way he had been, deep in thought.

 _Maybe I should just go,_ she thinks. _Just take the kids and go._

It'd certainly be easier if they split up. She could go to the airport and catch the next flight home, more than likely, without a problem, and Dean could take care of himself, without the burden. It makes perfect sense and would probably be the best thing for both of them. But all the same, Téa can't bring herself to get up from the chair. She hears the key turning in the lock just then and turns to look as Dean comes in, a beer bottle dangling from one hand. He shuts the door and leans on it, looking a bit tipsy.

Tea gets up and walks over to him, trying to see his face in the dim light. "Are you okay?" she asks...and he nods.

"Never better," he replies, as she steps right up to him. She sniffs the air in his direction, picking up on the unmistakable smell of cigarettes and beer coming off him. Dean looks at her with a slightly glazed expression, but she can tell he's not completely trashed.

"Hmm...bar-hopping?"

He flashes an unreadable expression and then lifts the beer to his mouth, polishing off the last of it. Then he drops the bottle on the floor and takes a few steps away. "I think they call it PUB crawling here...but no. That wasn't what I was doing."

"Then what were you doing? If I may ask," she replies, leaning on the door herself.

"I made some calls," he says, standing in the middle of the room, with his back to her. "I had to check on my cut, make sure the transfer went through. And, um..." He trails off for a moment, not completing the thought.

Téa watches him, sensing a sort-of sad acceptance in him. Then he turns around and looks at her directly. "I made arrangements for us to get to Montana. I had to call in a HUGE favor, but I think we'll be alright. GETTING there, anyway."

Téa's features relax, conveying a pleasant surprise that makes him feel sick so he turns away, feeling his way over to the foot of the bed and perching on it.

"I'll make my way across the border once we get you situated," he finishes, staring down at the floor.

Téa hesitates, then she slowly approaches him. "Y'know...if you don't wanna do this, I understand. I know it'd probably be better if I just left with the kids now."

Dean seems to consider that but he also seems to be thinking about a million other things...things that _aren't_ going to happen now. Dashed hopes and daydreams. He shakes his head finally. "There's no way I'm going to let you go alone. I want to make sure you get there in one piece...even though..." he stops abruptly.

"Even though what?" she asks.

He holds back for another moment...then shrugs, deciding he's got nothing to lose.

"Well...I'm just not sure what you think is gonna happen when you DO get back."

Tea folds her arms. "Meaning?"

"Oh, come on, Téa ...do you REALLY think Manning's gonna be all happy and sappy when you waltz back in the door?" he says, standing up to face her. "He doesn't seem like that kinda guy to me."

She does a take at that. "Did I SAY this has anything to do with Todd? No. I SAID...I'm taking the KIDS HOME. I'm doing this for THEM. It's not fair, what I've been doing. It's not right… they're no safer with us than they are with Todd...what happened today proved that."

Dean can't argue the obvious. But he does worry. "So...what's gonna happen to YOU?"

Téa looks up at him and for some reason, the question makes her feel like crying. _Home, home, home._ After a moment, she just shrugs. "I don't know," she whispers. Then she looks down, tears beginning to stream down her cheeks in a kind of grief over what's been lost.

Dean watches her, not sure what to do at first...but then he just goes with his first instinct and pulls her to him.

Shockingly, Téa melts into his chest, holding onto him, still whispering. "I don't know what's gonna happen...and I'm so scared...I've done all the wrong things...messed everything up..."

"You did what you thought you had to do. You thought you were in danger...you thought the kids were too," he replies, smoothing her hair. She clutches his coat tighter.

"The truth is I don't really KNOW if we were. But even so, we probably are NOW...at least *I* am. I know Todd. He's probably so angry, so hurt … he'll hate me...and I don't know if he'd be wrong in that. It's the least I deserve for running the way I did."

Dean grabs her arms, holding her away so he can look at her. "Téa, listen to me. You wouldn't have left for no reason. There must've been SOMETHING that set you off. And all I'm asking you to do is THINK about this. I want you to be sure you're not putting yourself and your kids back in the same bad situation."

She stares at him, and shakes her head, at a loss. "I don't know what else to do. I can't keep dragging the boys around like this forever. And I...Dean, I...I'm so sorry, but we can't stay with you, either. That's just...it's not gonna work...you have to see that."

It takes a moment...but he nods, reluctantly. "Yeah...I know. But that doesn't mean you have to go back to him."

"I don't have a choice. He's their father. He'll get over the upset. His being hurt."

She says the words, and they sound right, good, probable. But she knows they are a lie. She knows this because the truth inches out from the darkness beneath her feet, from the miles below that, from the hot lava center of the earth. _I am coming._ It is his furious hate that she feels, an unstoppable energy reverberating towards her. In the warm blue eyes of Dean, she sees _him_ walking a road, ecstatic, teeth bared, arms out, hair long and flying. He walks with the remains of her sons still in his fists. _I am coming._ His coat flaps against his legs and his black boots, blood darkening the wool. _I am coming._ She hears the deafening silence of lost lives and the roar of a tropical ocean behind him, far far away.

She knows the inevitability of it. He is coming for her. For the boys. He will kill them all.

 _No, no, no… that is not Todd, that is NOT the man I love._

 _Are you sure? Are you willing to trust the fates? Darlin'. Love of mine. My… fucking… queen._

"Look," Dean says, interrupting the vision, Téa almost gasping at being brought back into the room, "when we get to Montana, I'll have some time to cash out my cut. You can take most of it, I'll take what's left, and we both just...disappear. That way, you won't have to worry about me...OR him."

She doesn't react at first and then it dawns on her, what he's doing.

"You'd do that?"

"Yeah...of course." His simple, matter-of-fact reply stuns her again.

"Why? WHY would you?" she asks.

He shrugs, thinking for a second. "Call it...reparations," he replies, with another shrug and a small sad, resigned laugh. There is no denying his crimes against her.

And all she can do is offer a quiet hum. "I...I have to think about it."

 _I am coming. Can you feel it?_

It is strange how suddenly, she doesn't feel so hopeless anymore. The vision sinks back into the earth. Her fear fades like a tide moving out. He is offering her a way out, a hand to pull her into the balloon before he jerks a lever and a blast of heat lifts them into the sky. They are drifting across a Kansas plain now, the boys looking at the horizon, amazed. It overwhelms her.

"Thank you," she says, "I mean it. Thank you..."

Without a thought, without hesitation, she reaches up and touches his face, gently. She moves in close and kisses him on the mouth, without feeling the least bit of guilt.

Dean freezes for a second...but only that. Feeling less inhibited thanks to the alcohol, he moves in quickly, pulling her deeper into the kiss and tangling his hands in her hair. Téa responds to it, letting herself go with it, right or wrong, leaving behind everything that's darkened her thoughts and made her life so very miserable. She frees herself, allowing herself to have this one thing, this one time, these few moments.

Still deep in the kiss, she pulls his coat off and goes right for the shirt, yanking it up, determined now. They break off just long enough for her to pull the shirt up over his head and toss it aside. Then Dean grabs her face again, pulling her right back into another kiss. He starts walking her backwards, but there's really nowhere for them to go. So Téa takes over again and grabs the waist of his pants, pulling him down to the floor with her. It's a little awkward and he ends up tumbling on top of her. But once they're there, everything moves smoothly and quickly…

Téa's towel falls open and Dean shudders at the sensation of all of her skin against his. He runs his hands up and down the length of her, kissing her mercilessly, as she undoes his fly and pushes the pants down enough to expose him.

Dean pulls back a tiny bit to look in her eyes. "We don't have to do this, y'know...we don't..." he whispers and Téa just shushes him.

"It's okay...I want to...I don't care what it means or what happens."

She whispers the words between kisses and she's so passionate that any second thoughts Dean might have had are instantly gone. He pushes himself right into her and she tilts her head back, her legs coming up and wrapping around his waist. Dean almost faints from the rush on top of the buzz...and he kisses her exposed neck, sucking the skin all the way back up to her lips to kiss her again. Téa lets out a soft cry at how good that feels, how good _he_ feels...how good _she_ feels...warm, sheltered beneath his strength…

… so very different from that last time with Todd.

There's urgency but not desperation. There's the same physical acts, but not the same emotional punch. The baggage, the weight of all the world's cruelty is absent...even her own nightmares are nowhere to be found. She finds herself flying in freedom, swimming in bliss. His kisses are so intoxicating, she gets so much out of them, she is high. And in that haze, she understands she is being worshipped and adored rather than oppressively, painfully, _consumed_.

When she senses her body on the verge of an orgasm she wraps her arms around him. When it finally takes over, she holds him tightly. When the waves roll through her, she kisses him with an open mouth until she comes down at last. She finds herself hoping he's not ready yet because she doesn't want him to stop, doesn't want this to end. So she whispers to him to slow his movements and he does, looking into her with those steady blue eyes, calm as a lake with no wind. He lowers himself down on her gently, teasing her with his mouth, brushing his lips against hers light as a feather's touch, a bird skimming the lake. They move together in a slow, relaxed rhythm until he finally does finish.

When their breathing slows and everything grows quiet again, they stare at each other for a long moment. Téa pulls him back into a kiss, one that lasts until they're both exhausted and have to sleep. He rests on top of her and she hugs him around her like a blanket…

She knows that at least for now, he is protecting her from everything. They are high above the earth, far from the fiery center…

Floating in their beautiful balloon.

 **To be continued….**


	24. Chapter 24

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 24**

According to the soothing, calm, accented voice of the pilot over the intercom, in two more hours the plane would land at Gatwick airport outside London. Todd regards the closed cabin door towards the front of the plane, licking his lips, intensely _hungry._ Eating is the only thing on his mind. Not their destination, not the purpose of their trip, not what would happen once they landed.

He needs to goddamn EAT.

Running a hand through his long hair, he breathes in an invigorating rush of cool air. He stretches his muscles, emitting a low rumble from the depths of his throat, and surveys the passenger cabin, searching for food. He sizes up the cabinets lining the right side of the plane, noticing drawer-like paneling along the middle. He notices handles and thinks maybe he's located what he's on the prowl for.

Rising, he spots company. RJ seems to be asleep, facing the windows. Roseanne, a few feet away, lies coiled beneath a thick gray blanket. Her face is turned away from him. _Oh yeah,_ he thinks, remembering their tussle, a romp, a battle of flesh and sheer will.

She had asked him to teach her a lesson, to explain a significant distinction of sorts. He thinks she absorbed well the subject matter of the tutorial.

Walking softly along the carpet, his boots falling rhythmically, evenly, he makes his way over to her. Once there, he stares down at her defenseless body. Rubs his neck where she'd scratched him. Taking the edging of the blanket with his fingers, he begins to inch the covering off her. But he's only playing with her, amusing himself, like a tiger would with an already-dead mouse. Finds himself liking her wrecked clothes, her decidedly ruined appearance. He growls beneath his breath, a growl of intense satisfaction. He wouldn't mind another lesson and his cock twitches in agreement.

Sensing his presence, Roseanne awakens, peering upwards, and he smirks at the unabashed fear in her eyes.

"Hungry?" he asks. Despite how weak she appears, her mouth runs the same as always.

"Mmm...how would the English say it? Bugger off? Go to hell, you fuckin' shitbag?"

He makes a pretend sad face and places both hands on either side of her. He leans in and his expression shifts to disgust. He whispers hotly, "Whoa, that MOUTH, that dirty, filthy mouth. What's wrong, precious? Have a hangover from HELL?"

She gathers herself and snarls, "I guess you could say that. But that's all right, I'll get relief. And when I do...I'll have YOUR agony to thank for it."

"Ohhh...I SO hope you'll find a way to show me your gratefulness."

"You'll see, you sick bastard..."

He bends down further, grasps her cheeks with hard fingers, and with a soft grunt beforehand, runs his tongue across her lips. Laughs when Roseanne spits at him. As he straightens up, wiping the slickness off his cheek, he turns…

… and finds himself facing RJ who's wearing a look of simmering, stunned disbelief. He's visibly disturbed, highly so.

"My fuckin' god," he starts, in a completely disgusted tone. "What in the HELL are you two DOIN'? Will SOMEBODY PLEASE explain this shit to me? 'Cause I don't get it, at all."

Todd is alarmingly unmoved by RJ's condemnation, gazing back at him with aloofness. RJ scrutinizes his entire body, from top to bottom, looking for something, evidence, maybe. An explanation. He sees nothing other than fresh markings on his neck. Glancing down at Roseanne, he can see her state as well. Her eyes are big, dark circles beneath them, and what almost looks like bruising on her cheekbones. Her hair is messy like someone's been pulling at it, and her expression… well, she appears defeated, crushed.

With a sinking, ill feeling in the pit of his belly, the image he sees is of an incident that's decidedly criminal in nature, and he exhales out...not knowing what to do...not knowing what this _is._ RJ moves quickly from revulsion to concern to fear. He's afraid for Téa, for the boys. He's even afraid for Rosie.

In an instant, RJ's goal changes.

He decides that he is no longer going after Téa to bring her back home to her family but rather plans to find her and protect her... _period_. He would rather die than allow Todd to get anywhere near her. He's not sure of the logistics of this new maneuver but goddamn… no way is he going to be a party to a reunion.

Todd Manning has regressed, has become the monster everyone said he was.

RJ slides his gaze back to Manning who hisses, "If you don't get it, consider yourself saved from the badness. Now, if you don't mind, _Reverend_ Gannon, I'm gonna get me somethin' ta'eat."

RJ looks down at Roseanne who pulls the blanket back up around herself, covering up, curling up… before raising his eyes to watch more of the frightening display Todd's putting on. RJ's amazed he's not sick considering how drunk he was. He's anything but...in fact, he's positively _lustrous._

Across the cabin, Todd yanks on the handles of the refrigerated drawers and smiles at seeing abundant food dishes slide out. There are salads, fish...and cold cuts _...meat._ Breads and packaged condiments lay nestled within other drawers. He picks out reddish slices of roast beef, not bothering with the hassle of making a sandwich, and eats them ferociously. He pops a couple of cherry tomatoes into his mouth, a single cucumber slice. But those morsels don't satisfy his carnivorous wants. So he goes back to finish off the meat. Once done, he grabs a beer, opens it up and drinks it down. Empties it before gently setting it on the counter. He noses around some more among the plates and eats varying kinds of raw fish with his fingers. When he swallows the last of it, he gets another beer...and snakes a cigar from yet another drawer. Putting the bottle down, he lights up, leaning back on the counters. He puffs seductively, skilled. He's almost drunk with the meal, his eyes taking on a mild look of sedation.

Like before, there's little else on his mind other than a sense of the immediate. He thinks of showering...thinks of lying down in the center of the room...thinks the rush of power blasting its way through him is the reason anyone might continues to trudge through this dark world.

The passivity fades though when RJ approaches with the careful steps of a thief, Todd's eyes brightening. The barest of grins finds its way to his lips. He puffs on the cigar, blowing out a perfect ring of smoke.

"Y'know...Roseanne looks pretty messed up there, Manning."

"Musta been a rough night. Air travel is a bitch."

"Mmm," RJ agrees, still cool. "You have something to do with that?"

" _Not me_...said the wolf."

RJ watches Todd's eyes, saying, "We're going to be seeing Téa pretty soon—"

" _Téa?_ Who the fuck is that?"

The hairs on the back of RJ's neck stand up...and he swallows hard, turning around a second or two to look at Roseanne, who just shrugs, who's been watching the exchange from her safe distance.

RJ turns back around and spits, "What dafuck is wrong with you, boy?!" He says this like a parent who's fed up with an ill-behaved child. "Snap out of it...can you do that? In the name of all that's holy...can you just wake the fuck up?"

"Wake up from what _...Rev?_ I've never felt more awake in my entire life."

Todd sips the beer as he says that, never taking his eyes off RJ. Licks his lips.

RJ shakes his head at him, still concerned as hell and a lot afraid of what's happening, but he knows he can't admit to that.

"You are so full of it."

Todd chuckles and makes an expression like he doesn't understand. Puffs again on the cigar. "Y'know, maybe YOU'RE the one who's asleep. Maybe if you opened _your_ eyes, you'd see what I see." He laughs outright, chillingly.

"Alright, enough," RJ huffs. "C'mon, boy, let's go, fists up, come on, come on."

RJ does exactly that, putting up his fists, dancing around, mocking a boxer's moves. They've done this before and RJ's doing it now with the purpose of getting back the man he considered a friend at one point. He's looking at Todd and he realizes the person he once knew is gone…

Téa's husband, the man she fell in love with, married, has been replaced with someone else, some _thing_ else.

RJ remembers the woman in the doorway to the restaurant back in Fallstown who said, _"It's gonna get you, white boy."_ He's thinking about what that woman saw and he's thinking she was right as he tries to lure Todd into a fight with a 'bring-it-on' hand gesture.

"Look, I know Rosie's a belly-crawlin' little bitch...and I'm beginning to get that she pulled something bad with Téa...and maybe SHE'S the reason Téa took off with the kids, pulling the rug out from under you. She pulled it out hard, but man, I KNOW she didn't ask for whatever the hell you did to her, so come on, take it out on me...ain't nobody around, no guns, no weapons...and hey. I ain't no pussy. So...let's go...even match, man-to-man..."

Todd watches him, listening...and he smirks...because he doesn't understand exactly what RJ's doing. RJ bounces to the left and to the right...and says Téa's name a couple more times.

"Whatchu think Téa's doing? You think she misses you? Huh? That whatcha think? But le's be real. What could she _possibly_ be missin' about YOU?"

He reaches out and punches Todd lightly on the shoulder, punching him again.

"Show me what you got...let's go...put the smoke down and let's do this." He punches another couple of times.

 _Téa… Téa… Téa..._

Hearing her name does trigger something deep inside of Todd, but it's so _far_ inside it barely causes a ripple. Like a viper, he grabs RJ's closed fist with his hand, holding it in place. Even RJ's surprised by the strength there.

"Don't fuck with me," he growls.

RJ narrows his eyes and relaxes, capitulating because he's dealing with some serious fire here and he's not going to disrespect it. In an instant, RJ decides his friend is sick and it's real. He can't be woken up by a friendly fight thousands of miles in the air. Not right now, anyway.

He pulls his hand away, backing up a step. "Okay. Fine. If you insist." Then he folds his big arms across his chest and says, "You wanna know who the fuck Téa is? I'll remind you. Téa Delgado is your WIFE."

Todd chews on the cigar, light, unnaturally bright eyes narrowing at RJ.

"You've got two twin boys together."

Looking down a second, Todd then smiles slightly, differently though than earlier and RJ is hoping it's a sign that he's coming around—

"I'm sorry, man," Todd says, chuckling, RJ's heart sinking. "I can't keep up the pretense here. You're so afraid, Gannon...so full of compassion. I KNOW who Téa is, I know my boys, Evan and Brendan. I know they've all been stolen from me by Roseanne over there. And I know she deserves nothing less than what she gets...what she's gotten."

"She didn't deserve what I THINK you did to her...she's not worth it."

Glancing around, as if checking for eavesdroppers, Todd whispers, his tone arrogant and sarcastic, "And what is it you think I did?"

RJ says in a calm tone, "I THINK you raped her...and not too long ago at that. And maybe more than once. And I THINK...you keep this shit up, you're gonna lose Téa...you're gonna lose EVERYTHING...FOR-E-VER."

The words drift about Todd like dandelion seeds in a summer breeze, floating this way and that, then settle gently around him. A rape...certainly he saw pictures of such a thing in his mind...felt the act in his loins, in his blood. In the orgasm he experienced. Certainly Roseanne looked ravaged, disabused of her dignity...certainly she looked... _ruffled_.

But...this is how they are, who they are.

While there's a parallelism in their world to an actual one, rules of traditional society don't apply to them. What he did...while maybe qualifying as rape in the real world... was merely a lesson, a necessary and final show of spiritual force. The act balanced the power play between him and Roseanne. He's not even sure if it _was_ physical...it may have been only in their minds...because as always, their acts transcend the physical world. Crossing lines, blurring reality. Rubbing his neck, the wounds she inflicted on him...he acknowledges he's not natural...not human…

His way is the way of the other side.

 _Human up, Todd. Remember what it's like...to be human._

"Whatchu think Téa's gonna say when she hear about this? Whatchu think she gon' do?" RJ keeps pushing, trying to get Todd to wake the fuck up, trying to get TODD to come back.

With the smoldering cigar firmly held between his fingers, Todd rubs his face with the heel of his hand, rubbing his eyes roughly… crinkling his face in a kind of aggravation. "Téa, Téa, Téa, Téa..." He groans as he says her name.

"A woman who loves you..."

Still twisting with this mental strain, he grumbles, "Y'know, that's so fuckin' funny you should say that, Rev, because... *I* see her with someone else, lying in HIS bed, saying HIS name on her lips...and you know what name that is? _Dean Shelton._ So...what's that about, Gannon? You know her so well, YOU tell me...what is THAT about?"

RJ considers that, then shakes his head. "That's...beside the point."

"WHAT?" Todd throws his head back, laughing. "Beside the point...ohhh...that's...that's rich."

"Well then, what are we DOIN', Manning?! Huh? What's all this FOR? WHY are we on this plane, risking our freedom for her...if she's lying with another man, and you don't give a shit...then why are we bothering? WHY ARE WE HERE?!"

This legitimately throws Todd and he pauses, resting his head in his hand, a string of smoke from the cigar twisting upwards. He shuts his eyes, one side shut more than the other, rubbing his hair, now.

"I don't know why," he whispers.

RJ's eyes brighten and he thinks _maybe_ he's broken through in some way.

"Well...what are you gonna do when we FIND Téa? Or… or maybe we turn this bus around and go home."

"I don't know." He turns around and places his hands on the counter top, leaning forward, shaking his head. He's quiet a long while, his head dropping. The cigar burns out and he lays it down...hearing her voice suddenly.

 _They were going to kill me, Todd...maybe...I should've let them?_

Todd sighs, speaking quietly now.

"Remind me, RJ...tell me what Téa and I did together, tell me why she married me. Because right now, I have no fuckin' idea. No idea. Not a one."

Thoughtfully, RJ says, "She liked your smarts. You made her laugh with that weird-ass sense of humor you got...excited her with your energy, that refusal to conform. You were devoted to her and she loved that too. Loved that you got through to her, knew her, all her strengths and weaknesses. She loved how you looked at her, _how_ you loved her. And she loved you right back. Even knowing where you came from, man, she admired you...that you'd worked to...overcome."

"Overcome."

"Yeah. You spent a long time in a fog...and when you came out of it, you were someone who could CONTROL his impulses. Téa said that...that you got it together, SO together… and you didn't let the bad luck of the past year bring you down. But..."

"But...what?" Todd turned his head slightly…

"Well, SOMETHING happened, obviously. SOMETHING went wrong. All I know is, last time I talked to her, she was afraid. I mean, REALLY AFRAID. Of YOU. And looking at you now...I dunno, maybe she saw where you were going. 'Cause you CAN'T control your impulses anymore, that's for DAMNED sure. All that overcoming? It's gone."

 _Help me remember...it's so hard on my own. I can see Starr...but she's in my hands and she's terrified of my anger. Her hair on her shoulders sways with every jerking motion I inflict on her. Stay out of my things...stay out of my life...stay the hell away from me. Remember that? It's all wrong. I see Téa...but she's crying...and we're making love...and it's clear I am hurting her. Oh god...she's so scared now. I see myself walking along an isolated road and I've got blood all over me, the blood of the boys. I've killed them and now got their souls inside of me and I'm riding high on that...like a ghoul, like a demon. But no...no...that's not it...that's not all...go back, go back before the fall. Taste the sweetness...think on it. Think hard on it. Think of the things that make you human...not the blood but the fresh water of a brook...the fresh sound of happiness...what happened to make this go wrong?_

RJ is close and he can feel his old friend wavering, caught between two paths and he's hoping maybe maybe—

Todd, still leaning on his hands, looks around the plane...then his eyes land on Roseanne. And like wildfire, something comes over him-a darkness-and the wavering disappears.

RJ sees it and once again the hope fizzles.

Grunting softly, Todd picks up the cigar and re-lights it. Puffs a few times. Saunters back to his seat in a literal, smoky fog.

As he walks, he says, "I remember everything. And she left and I'm gonna fuckin' find her."

As he settles down into the chair, as he contemplates arriving on British soil, he observes that the most _human_ part of him is ultimately what allowed him to slip back into his more animal form: capacity for love. It broke him, it wrecked him. Had he not loved anything or anyone… he'd never have permitted Roseanne to fuck with him.

She'd never have had the opening.

RJ is left behind, left with an unforeseen aftermath.

Roseanne walks towards him now, looking tired, worn. Limping. He wonders if she's paid enough for her crimes against Téa, against her family. Wonders if Todd's done punishing her. She reaches a very concerned RJ. He takes her in, eyes back on hers.

"You need anything?" he asks. "Food, a drink?" Adds quietly, "A doctor maybe?"

She pauses in front of him to sneer, "Why the hell would I need a doctor? His EGO's a lot bigger than HE is. He didn't hurt me, can't hurt me, with that TINY DICK."

She says that last part loudly and RJ shudders at Todd's low rolling laugh.

"I'm gonna shower," Roseanne says, "get ready for landing."

Her bag is sitting on another seat near the back of the cabin. She leans over and picks it up when she gets there, her body reacting as if it weighs a ton. With a sigh, she enters the door heading back to the bathrooms. Disappears into one of the small rooms.

RJ's not sure what to do, now. He's not sure what Roseanne will do. He moves near Todd, choosing to sit in a seat across from him.

The man sucks on the cigar, staring out the window, watching the blackness. When he turns back, catching RJ looking directly at him, he sniffs. Asks what RJ wants only with a facial expression _,_

Todd's looking tired. The sheen he bore earlier seems to have faded. It's as if the ugliness of his conduct has finally broken through the high of it _...as if._

"I want answers...STRAIGHT answers," RJ grumbles.

"Ask away."

"What did Roseanne do to Téa to make her run?"

"She put pictures in her head. She made Téa think that I would kill our sons."

RJ creases his brows, swallows hard, "Come again?"

"Téa believes one day, I will corner our boys and I'll murder them in cold blood. I will bash their skulls in until they are no more. She believes this because of a vision given to her by Roseanne. She gave it to her and then made sure to torture her with it, made the images seem SO real that in the end my wife did what she felt she HAD to do. Especially after what happened with Starr, especially after we made love. See I didn't notice I'd hurt her. She wasn't ready yet. Too soon after childbirth. So...she left. Because she was afraid of me."

RJ hears the story but isn't sure of what's real and what isn't. "So...Téa left with Shelton, to avoid YOU...to avoid that infamous wrath."

Todd shrugs thoughtlessly, too light a move in comparison to the story he's telling. "I suppose she thinks of Shelton as someone who wouldn't kill a child. He'd do a million OTHER illegal things, but he wouldn't kill a kid." He pauses to laugh. Sort of. "Although...I dunno, it could be anything. I'm tired of questioning why she'd leave with him. At this point, I'm outta answers. And I'd say I don't care...but...that would be a lie."

RJ nods, taking that in. "Well, she has reason to be afraid of you...I'M afraid of you for fuck's sake."

Todd eyes RJ, appreciating the admission. "You're SUPPOSED to be. It's my intention...my only defense. I'm good at scaring people, good at getting back at them for hurting me, for hurting anything or anyone that's mine."

RJ studies Todd, looking for signs that he is returning to his old self, finding nothing. The coldness, the easy rolling out of what Rosie did… is crazy. It's...just crazy.

"Alright. Well...where to NOW, Manning?"

"To Téa...to bring her home."

RJ almost feels sorry for Todd because what _does_ he think? How can he do all this shit and think Téa would leave with him? Think that RJ would HELP her leave with him? So he asks...

"Mmm-hmm...and...what EXACTLY is she coming home TO?"

Todd doesn't even hesitate when he says, "ME. She's coming home to me, where she fuckin' belongs. We'll pick up our life right where we left off… and WHY the FUCK are you looking at me like that?"

"Because you're delusional! You're fuckin' delusional! You RAPED Roseanne! Jesus CHRIST, brother!"

RJ is spitting mad, aghast, utterly horrified. He points toward the back, where Rosie went.

"You oughtta be going to jail, and you might very well be...and y'know what else? YOU DESERVE TO!"

Todd raises his eyebrows and shrugs. "Roseanne asked me to show her the difference between 'playing' with her and 'raping' her. I obliged. She saw the difference. I think she understands now that I'd never done such a thing to her before."

RJ's sick to his stomach. He's seeing a part of Todd he never saw before, not up close, not personal. He's sounding like how the newspapers described him during the trial following the rape of Marty Saybrooke. _I forgive you._ That was the headline, a direct quote. Todd had _forgiven_ Marty for the things she did to make him rape her. RJ rubbed his own beard, eyes hard on Todd.

He only met Todd after Marty. He believed that this part was dead. Now it's in glorious color...living, breathing, _taking._ But...he's still stuck on exactly _what_ side this is. And how _genuine_ it is...because there's a part of RJ that thinks Todd is just fucking with him. Shaking his head, RJ leans back in the seat, placing his fingers together in front of him.

"Ain't you the LEAST bit concerned about what Roseanne is gonna do? I mean...she'll probably get picked up by the cops...and she'll probably rat you out."

"We have perfect alibis. And she'll have a hard time when it comes to DNA evidence 'cause she won't _have_ anything to _show_ anything. Don't worry, Gannon, you're safe. What happened here...didn't happen here. Not on THIS plane of reality. As far as you're concerned, as far as the state's concerned, NOTHING happened."

RJ makes a face. "Hold up...now you're saying you DIDN'T rape her?"

"I'm SAYING...that what happened...didn't happen _here_."

He smiles then chuckles. Nurses the cigar. It's unsettling. _Very._

And RJ groans softly, getting to his feet, done with Manning...for now. He says plainly, "Just so you know...if we DO find Téa in England, I'll make sure she's safe, away from you. And if we don't find her there, I'll search the world for her again, to make sure she stays safe, AWAY FROM YOU. 'Cause it's pretty obvious that she has nothing to return to. Whatever home she had...you killed it. Good and dead."

With that, RJ turns to go back to his original seat a few feet away...giving Todd his back, a show of absolute confidence.

When Todd comes up right behind him, RJ yanks the pistol out of his jacket and whips around, placing the piece firmly against Todd's forehead. "What," RJ purs, "you have some objection? Something ELSE you wanna say to me?"

He releases the safety on the gun and Todd growls at it.

RJ laughs for a couple of seconds then hisses, "Go ahead, motherfucker, try it. And if you do, trust me, it won't be my 'dark side' killing you...it'll be my nine. And I'll be doing it HERE, in THIS world. I AIN'T...NO PUSSY."

Todd grins. "Yeah...you just keep thinking that. Meowwww..."

When RJ's sure Todd's back in his seat...RJ sits, too, never losing sight of Todd in his peripheral vision. He keeps his gun on the armrest, underneath his hand, loudly visible to the volatile creature who sits mere feet away from him. RJ's consumed with a horror at what's happened, thinks maybe he missed something these past few days. An opportunity he could have used to stop the decline maybe. He reflects on the course of events, how Téa was falling into a depression of sorts, how Todd had truly been taken off-guard by things.

But then RJ lost control...got pulled into a nightmare against his will. Todd set him up, it seemed. Presented one picture when quite another was the truth. Shifting in his chair, he turns and studies Todd who's lying back with his eyes closed...the cigar burning between his fingers. He lifts the Cuban to his lips every so often, not opening his eyes at all. He's grossly different, RJ notes. The mannerisms are different, the mood...the pain Todd always displays is absent. And it goes beyond his having committed such a vile crime. Something Todd always swore he'd never ever do again.

In a second, not without soulful grief, RJ decides one more thing. He won't hesitate to kill Todd Manning if there's any chance at all that he'd hurt Téa.

Roseanne emerges from the back, walking almost dreamily, refreshed. The limp seems to have improved somewhat; her hair is wet, falling about her. She appears small, though, in the loose pants she's wearing, the knit sweater. It's hard to imagine such a delicate picture being the cause of such destruction. Todd turns his head to watch her and his look is a hungry one, Roseanne moving like fucking prey across a meadow. RJ makes a point of lifting the gun a touch, curling his hand around the butt and the trigger, his thumb lightly tapping the hammer...a warning to Todd.

RJ hears a low growl from him and goddamn if it doesn't sound just like a tiger in a jungle.

"Stay put, pussycat," RJ grumbles.

Roseanne smiles and plays to the game, "Oh thank you, thank you, my ebony knight in shining armor. What would I ever do without you?"

RJ's eyes dart over to her. "Rosie, do yourself a favor. SHUT UP."

Todd laughs, "Isn't she cute, Reverend?"

Roseanne hisses at Todd, literally. He grins and returns back to his passivity, closing his eyes and puffing lazily on the cigar.

Roseanne sits nearer to RJ than before and he thinks it's because she _is_ afraid...as she should be, as Todd wants everyone around him to be. And RJ realizes indeed it's Manning's way of life, it's one trait that has remained constant since the day they first met, and probably for most, if not all, of Todd's adult life.

RJ doesn't deny, however, that making people afraid has been _his_ only defense as well...pretty much all of _his_ adult life. The gun at his side tells him so. His efficiency with the weapon confirms it. Manipulating fear is powerful and effective. It keeps tigers and lions at the top of the food chain.

With one difference though...he, unlike Todd, can keep things in check.

At that moment, the pilot's voice comes on saying they'll be landing in thirty minutes. Asks the passengers to buckle in.

"It's showtime," Roseanne says. "Can't wait for the nuclear fallout."

It's hard to be sympathetic to her, RJ thinks, his face darkening. He looks at her, "Okay, y'know, this has GOT TO STOP. SOMEONE has to interrupt this cycle. Let them go, Rosie."

"RJ...some things can't be interrupted," she says. "They can only be delayed...and this is one of them. There's nothing ANYONE can do...and it's certainly out of MY hands now."

"Fuck," RJ mutters, his head hitting the back of the seat as he sighs…

… and waits.

 **To be continued…**


	25. Chapter 25

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 25**

Téa looks over at Evan and Brendan in the seats across from her. They are heading to the States in a plane that doesn't look like any other she's ever been in. It's big, ugly, and looks more like a military cargo transport than a passenger jet.

The rear interior is sparse, rails running along either side with heavy loads anchored to them. In the front of the plane right behind the cockpit, is the small passenger cabin where they're all sitting. Walls separate it from the cargo bay and it muffles the noise somewhat. Four rows of typical airline seats, two on either side, face each other.

Dean sits on the opposite side, talking on a cell phone with one finger in his ear. Téa can't hear a lot of what he's saying, but she assumes he's making his arrangements to get to Canada. She looks over at him, half-expecting him to look different now that things have changed so drastically between them _...or have they?_ He _doesn't_ look different, of course, and doesn't act any differently. They did the same things this morning that they'd done every other morning, packing, checking the boys…

...but neither of them said a word about the night before. And it's not like they made some promise or deal to keep quiet...it just seems to be happening naturally. She supposes it's best that way _...maybe we can just ignore it into non-existence._

She turns her attention back to the twins, mostly glad they're too young to remember any of this, but also finding it a little sad that they won't remember flying over the ocean sparkling brilliantly underneath them. She tips her head thoughtfully then undoes her seat belt and steps over to them, looking down at them both.

"You guys wanna see the ocean?" she asks. She unbuckles Evan first, picking him up and sitting back down with him. She holds him up on her lap so he can see out the window. "See that?" she says, putting her cheek against his. "That's the ocean. See how pretty? All blue and shiny...we're flying over it, y'know. Just like the birds. Most guys your age don't get to do this."

Evan kicks his legs out, gurgling happily. Téa smiles, knowing he's probably just glad to be out of the seat. He reaches for the window, his tiny fingers making smear marks on the glass. Téa lets him play around for a while longer then gives him a big kiss and puts him back in the seat. She does the same with Brendan, sitting down with him. She points out the window and the baby follows her finger, looking out.

"That's the ocean, buddy...isn't that cool?"

Unlike his brother, Brendan doesn't do or say much. He just stares with an intensity that always makes Téa think of a much older person. An old soul. He lets out a big heaving sigh and Téa just looks at him with amazement, murmuring, "Y'know, you don't act like any other baby I've ever seen." He turns his head in the direction of her voice and she laughs a little, kissing the button of his nose before gazing back out the window and so does he. "I'm sorry you won't remember this. It's probably the one good memory you could take away from this whole mess. But I guess I'll just have to remember it for you." She lets him look for another moment, then turns around to see Dean standing there. "Oh...hey," she says, a little startled. "I was just showing them the ocean."

He nods, his arms stretched up over his head, comfortably leaning on the overhead compartment. Then without a second thought-or asking-he takes Brendan out of her hands and swoops him up, making a 'plane' sound, holding him over his face. Téa isn't sure how to react but Brendan loves it, giggling and kicking. Dean 'flies' him up and down a few more times and then gently places him back into the seat. Evan gets antsy for some attention as well, making fussy noises.

"Oh, you want some of this? You wanna piece-o-me?" Dean teases, scooping him up and out. Téa sits back in her seat, watching him with a mixture of unease and gratefulness. He handles them so well, even better now than when she first arrived, and it's clear he has a natural talent with children.

She then thinks of Starr and even though the little girl has never spoken of the kidnapping, Téa wonders what Starr would say about Dean if asked. Would she remember him at all? And if so, _how?_ Would Starr be as conflicted as she herself seems to be, if asked to classify him as a 'good person' or a 'bad person'?

 _\_

 _Maybe Starr would know what to say...because I certainly don't._

Téa shakes her head at how absurd, yet perfectly reasonable it all is, as Dean puts a giggly Evan back in his seat and then sits down next to her. Téa keeps her head down for a minute, feeling a little self-conscious. But then she glances at him, asking. "Who were you talking to?"

"Buddy of mine who works out of Montreal," he replies, turning his head toward her, resting back on the seat.

Téa nods, lifting an eyebrow. "Mmm...parlez-vous francais?"

Dean chuckles, "Yeah, sure...does your rhuuuum 'ave a phuuuuun? Does yer dug baaate? Zat is not my dug," he jokes in his best 'Inspector Clouseau' voice.

As usual, despite the situation, Téa laughs quietly, covering her face a little. She nods. "Oh, yeah...you'll do fine."

Their mutual laughter fades after a moment, leaving them both in an awkward, conversational lull. They both stare at other things, Dean looking past the twins, Téa looking down at her knees. They both listen to the noise of the engines which becomes its own kind of quiet. Then Dean turns to her. "Are you sorry?" he asks, softly.

Téa shuts her eyes for a second before meeting his steady eyes with hers and with the tiniest of smiles, she shakes her head.

"Are you?"

He smiles back, gently, shaking his head too. "No," he says, after a moment.

She nods and they are quiet again. Dean gazes at her for a moment or two. "Y'know…," he starts, getting her attention. She tips her head to get him to look at her which he does.

"I just want you to know," he says, "how sorry I am for what I did to you...to Starr...to your kids...hell, even to your husband. I never really gave it much thought, I've been on my own for so long… but now, thinking on it, I don't think I could take having my family stolen from me. So I can't blame him if all he wants to do is kill me. I'd wanna do the same thing if I were him...if I HAD a family."

Téa is slightly stunned by the apology, a rush of bad memories awakened by his words. She huffs and rubs the bridge of her nose at it.

"You believe me...right?" he asks.

"I do. I really think you mean what you say… but-"

"But what?"

Téa turns in the seat, pushing back a bit so she can face him. "For you to look me in the eye and say you're sorry, it...it helps. It really does. But then I hear you say you're talking to a 'buddy' of yours in Montreal, and...I just have to wonder."

Dean makes a slightly confused expression, then he nods, slowly, with realization. He relaxes into a gentle joke. "Ohhh...this is where you try to convince me to mend my evil ways and get a REAL job, right?"

Téa almost smiles. smirks at the humor...but tries to keep it serious. "Something like that," she says, and he thinks about it.

"Well, sounds easy enough. But it's a little harder to put into practice."

The joke has fizzled. There isn't anything funny in their dark reality.

Téa glances at the boys, lingering on their angelic faces. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do-"

"Yes you are," he interrupts, but not harshly. "...but y'know what...you're probably the only person I've ever met who CARED enough to TRY and tell me what to do with my life."

Her face softens at that...and she smiles sadly, hardly a smile really, unable to say anything. She can't help but reflect on her efforts to keep _Todd_ on the straight road and she shakes the thought of him away.

"Taking down scores has BEEN my life for so long...I just...I don't know how to do anything else. I think I'm kinda trapped," he finishes...and Téa nods, leaning in a bit too.

"Well, I'm not going to sit here and dictate your future to you," she says, in almost a whisper, as if someone would overhear. "I'm the LAST person who should be doing that for ANYBODY. I can't even get my OWN shit together. But I'll tell you this much. *I* think...you could still have a pretty great life...if you could just..." She pauses, struggling for the right word. "I don't know," she continues, "...break away from THIS life...the one you THINK you're trapped in. *I* think...that if you could just step outside of it for a second...you'd see that it's not as hopeless as it looks."

Dean sits there, wishing what she said could be true. He's silent for a moment. Then he turns and gazes intensely at her…

"Wow. That's, uh...pretty deep."

Téa lets out a breathy laugh at his tease, grateful for the joke actually. Better to laugh than cry, yeah?

But the lightness doesn't last. He gets serious again, "Well...to be honest, I HAVE imagined another life," Dean stares at the floor, then up at her. "The only problem is...that it includes you."

Téa stops breathing, just for an instant, then lets out another half-laugh. "Oh, god...I don't know what you expect me to say to that."

"I don't expect anything," he says right back. "Except maybe some answers."

"About what?" she asks and he leans in close.

"Look, Téa, your business is your business. I can't force you to talk to me. But the fact is, you've never really told me ANYTHING about Manning. I have no idea what the deal is with your husband, what it was that made you run from him...or why you're going back when you're that scared of him. You ran to ENGLAND, were on the cusp of leaving to Ireland."

Téa sits back a bit, eyeing him. Then she sniffs, nodding...feeling for the first time, like she really _wants_ to tell somebody...and not just anybody _...him._ But as she considers what she's about to say, it just seems _...ridiculous._ She just shakes her head. "You'll think I'm crazy. And maybe I am. I don't know."

"I seriously doubt that," he replies. "Try me."

She takes a deep, deep breath, deciding to lay it all out.

"It started right after we brought the twins home. Vivid, detailed nightmares. And that's not even a strong enough word, they were more like...visions, if that's possible. They seemed so REAL. The first one I had, I saw Evan and Brendan older… and… they had barricaded themselves in a bathroom…"

The story is there in front of her. The images. The deadly threat. The truth of it. As she tells Dean, the tale flowing in a waterfall of terror, she finds herself empty, the words flat and historical. She tells it like testimony in a courtroom. As if it happened already.

As if Todd was just a dangerous _stranger._

"He was on the other side of the door, threatening them. The boys were yelling for me, but I couldn't help them. I was frozen. Same thing in the other one...except in that one, Todd looks like this...THING...dark and scary...like a demon. And he takes the boys right out of their cradles and bashes their heads open on a tree. It's violent and bloody, and he...he seems to enjoy it. He DOES enjoy it. I started seeing THAT image all the time, even when I wasn't sleeping...and it scared the hell out of me. I had no idea where it was coming from, I mean...there wasn't any _reason_ for it. So I tried to ignore it...until one morning when I heard Starr screaming..."

 _The truth of it._

She wants to cry at this moment, the recollection of Starr's fear the most vivid piece of the nightmares. Her scream is the boys' screams. She doesn't cry though. She continues with her testimony.

"I ran downstairs, went into his office, and I see papers on the floor, a mess, but mostly I see _him._ He was holding her by her thin arms in such a tight grip up that she was in the air, and he was yelling in her face and _shaking_ her. All he had to do was swing her… and there he'd be, bashing the boys against a tree."

She paused, her face absent of emotion. She added, "He was drunk. He didn't really hurt her, but she was terrified...and so was I."

Dean listens closely, not daring to interrupt her. She studies her hands, rubbing her left hand, rubbing her finger where her wedding ring used to be. It sat in her luggage.

"We'd had a bad night the night before. He and I. We… uh… made love for the first time since the kids were born, but ...I wasn't ready for it. I was messed up from the stress of the kidnapping, and from my fear of the man, him, killing my children. That had made its way deep inside my psyche by that time. The sex… wasn't good. Like I said, I wasn't ready physically but hadn't wanted to put him off any more. Anyway, he hurt me and didn't realize it until I started crying. It was a mess. He slept in his office and obviously felt bad and when he feels bad he drinks. So bad to worse. He was immediately sorry about Starr, completely mortified that he'd done that to her—"

"Why was he mad at her?"

Téa swallows, still hearing his drunken voice, delicate Starr in his hard unforgiving hands.

 _STAY OUT OF MY THINGS! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?! STAY OUT OF MY THINGS!_

"It doesn't matter. She could spilled milk, stepped on his toes. Irrelevant as far as I'm concerned. Starr didn't deserve that." She sighs, shakes off the memory. Hard to do though. "Anyway, so yeah, THAT on TOP of the nightmares, on top of the injurious sex… it just...I don't know. I panicked I guess...and you just...happened to call."

Dean nodded. Then pushed to the bottom line point. "That's kind of a harrowing story, Téa. So WHY are you going back to him? Sounds like he's off the reservation."

"I never said I was going back to him," she immediately replies, and he just gives her a knowing look.

"Oh don't even try to bullshit me like that," he says, pushing back in the seat. "If you WEREN'T going back, you'd have said yes to my offer of Canada without a second thought."

Téa stays silent, unable to argue...because he's right. Montana is just a way back to Todd, isn't it?

 _No, no, it's something else entirely._

She can't pin herself down. Everything is loose, tentative, _dreamy_ , and it angers her...the fact that she has no definitive answers, that there's nothing she knows _for sure._

But what also angers her is that she knows, deep down, that she's _afraid._ Afraid of the future, afraid of real answers, afraid of what _truth_ she might find if she goes looking…

… afraid that every bad thing Todd ever said about himself is true. Maybe she's been kidding herself this entire time, and there really is _no hope_ for him or for them.

 _Which is worse? Knowing or NOT knowing?_

She asks herself this, over and over and over, and all she can do return to a _feeling_. The same _feeling_ that always kept her from cutting Todd out of her life altogether...

...the feeling of being desperately needed.

She feels it as strongly as her fear, a sense of Todd being pulled away from all the good things in his life by a tremendous force, being tossed around, losing his grasp. And she sits on the edge of it all, wondering whether or not she should extend her hand.

If she does nothing, the man she fell in love with will surely drown inside the folds of that long, black coat. And while she doesn't want that to happen, at the same time...it infuriates her. She's been in this situation with him before and the fact it's all on _her_ to save him _-again-_ makes her want to reach her hand out just so she can slap the hell out of him.

 _How dare you...how dare you put this all on ME, Todd...you goddamned, lazy sonofabitch...why is it always ME who has to save YOU? Why am *I* the one who has to be responsible for YOU? Why do I keep TAKING responsibility for you?_

And it's that anger that makes her decision final. "I'm not going to Canada with you because I have nothing concrete to base a judgment on. This is the only thing I CAN do. A halfway point. I won't be able to do anything else until I've seen him, until we've looked each other in the eye. I may not like what I see...but...at least I'll know the TRUTH."

Dean doesn't say anything...he just shakes his head. Téa leans into him, placing a hand on his forearm.

"I don't expect you to understand or agree with me...and I know you're taking a huge risk in doing this. If you want to go your own way as soon as we hit the ground, I'll understand."

"I'm not about to leave you alone like that...not in this kind of fucked-up situation. No way," he says.

Téa squeezes his arm, sighing with the weight of the world on her.

He gazes at her, taking her in like he's memorizing her.

"How long do you think it'll take him to find us?" he asks, after a moment.

And Téa _feels_ the answer is soon...doesn't know it, of course, but she feels the vibe radiating out from her, broadcasting its message to whomever's listening. And she suspects...that it _will_ be received.

 _This is your chance, Todd. Your chance to show me, to show your sons who you REALLY are...or WHAT you really are. We'll wait for you at the place where we were supposed to live happily ever after. Come and show us…_

"Not long," she says, with an eerie tone that makes Dean look at her, questions in his eyes.

She loops an arm around his, and rests her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes, and not saying another word.

* * *

They're finally in London. The customs official had come and gone, the paperwork solid. The pilot directs the unloading of crates for further examination at one of the airline docks. In his heavy Jamaican tongue, he tells RJ that the plane takes off in about four hours, heading right back to Philly. But if they have an alternative destination, he's been told to make adjustments.

RJ thanks him, paying him a heavy tip in cash. Just as RJ's about to leave, the pilot nods to him, keeping him close. Quietly, he says, "I see nuhting, I hear nuhting, less yuh wan me to. I only loyal to my brotha...no to anyone else."

RJ realizes he's willing to say whatever RJ wants him to regarding Todd...and Roseanne. _Fuck._ He's willing to save RJ's ass. Protect him from shit out of RJ's control. He's willing to take care of extra baggage if need be. Pausing a moment, RJ asks for a dose of assurance…

"Tell me, you hear anything goin' on...in the back of the plane? You see shit that shouldn't have been happening?"

The pilot squints, looks into the distance, rubbing his nose with this thumb. Returning his gaze back to RJ. "Wat yuh want? Me to hear? Or me not to hear? Yuh ask yuh-self dat before I tell yuh."

RJ grunts, the pilot telling him everything without giving a single detail. _Fuck!_ But the illusion is preferable, isn't it? He doesn't want details. He wants ignorance, innocence. He's not sure he'll be able to live with _knowing_...especially if Téa decides to go back home with Manning.

"What did you NOT hear?" RJ asks.

"Noting."

"Yah," RJ drawls, shaking his head, patting him on the back, "Thank you, brotha...appreciate it. I won't forget it either. You got me in your debt. You ever in Llanview, you look me up, man. I'll show you a good time. Bring your family, or not. You look me up."

"Yah, man...see yuh lat-uh."

With that RJ leaves the hangar, where right outside a Range Rover's waiting and ready. RJ starts to get into the driver's side except Todd's already there, with the ignition on. Roseanne's in the back.

"Know where you goin'?" RJ snaps.

Todd grips the steering wheel tightly. Anxious. "Yup," he says, "I've known since we left where to go. I know the house...the city...the road that gets us there. But what I don't feel yet...is HER."

He drops his head slightly, then sniffs, raising his eyes to look at Roseanne in the rear view mirror. She's gleeful. Todd whispers to her reflection, "You're dead, bitch."

She sings in response, "Heaven...I'm in heaven..."

Groaning softly, RJ says, "Hit the fuckin' road then. Let's get this shit over with."

 _"I'm in heaven...heaven..."_

 **To be continued...**


	26. Chapter 26

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 26**

Téa groans as she stretches her limbs, stiff and sore from the day's travel. She welcomes the opportunity to walk back and forth inside the tiny building that serves as the airport, waiting for Dean to join her. He had to square things with the pilot as far as payment and getting the story straight...the story being, of course, that the plane had no passengers. Just cargo.

She looks around at the empty place, seeing no furniture, no regular seating for incoming and outgoing passengers. There is a desk with a laptop and some papers on it. Not even a phone. _Shady,_ she thinks, _VERY shady...but quite amazing._

Since she left Todd, she'd seen the secret workings of the underworld; it was incredible how the inhabitants of this world operated-smooth and professional, like any other _normal_ business. They moved about like everyone else, had jobs like everyone else...the only difference being that if any of them were caught _doing_ their jobs by the authorities, they'd go to jail.

Téa actually smirks, feeling a little like Maid Marian stepping into Sherwood Forest for the first time, seeing up-close how the thieves live. It makes her think of-and miss-RJ, as she realizes that this must be how _he_ lives also. She knew he was still involved in organized crime, but never asked him about it and really, she didn't want to know, especially when she was an assistant district attorney.

 _Christ..._ she thinks...finding it strange now that she ever _had_ a career. It seems like ages ago, another life belonging to a different person. She then wonders whether or not she could ever return to Llanview at all. Hank Gannon had surely replaced her and rightly so. She'd left him in the lurch and she feels badly about it.

 _Such irresponsible behavior from someone who's supposed to be so damned smart._

She thinks of Carlotta, too, of the family she hasn't seen in so long now. Her head dips sadly, hating the distance from the Vegas, from everyone that ever mattered to her. She sinks down onto the grey dirty carpet, resting the boys in their car seats next to her. They're quiet, patient as always. Curious faces look at her and she caresses their cheeks before sitting back against the wall. She crosses her legs and rubs the knotted muscles in her forehead.

Then the door opens and Dean walks in with a rush of chilly air behind him. He strolls over to her.

"We're all set. Got a car outside. You okay?"

She nods, looking up at him, and he gives her a gentle smile. "C'mon, let's go," he says.

Téa stands up like an old woman, following him as he grabs the twins' seats and walks out. She takes a big breath of the chilly air to wake herself up and it seems familiar to her somehow, as if it had a recognizable smell or something. As they make the drive north, Téa stares out the window, remembering when she first arrived in Montana...what an eye-opening experience it was. Montana was so open, untouched and sparsely populated compared to the east coast. The road stretches out before them and the horizon is clear, everything visible for miles around. For some reason, it relaxes her, lightens her mood a bit. Maybe because it's familiar territory.

 _Kinda like coming home...except...you don't really HAVE a home anymore, do you? And whose fault is THAT?_

She closes her eyes, shutting the door on the thought. She doesn't want to go there, not now. So she settles in the seat, reclining back a bit, and it doesn't take long for her head to drop.

When she opens her eyes again, everything is still and strangely quiet. She quirks, looking around.

 _Wait...where's the car? Where's..._

She pulls herself up, realizing ever so slowly that she's lying in the grass...somewhere. She looks all around and after a second or two, she recognizes the area, the memory coming back to her like pulling an old coat out of a dusty box.

In front of her, a short distance away, is Joely Atherton's house and she stares at it. It's a beautiful old house and that beauty reflects well the doctor who helped Todd so much when he was suffering from dissociative identity disorder. Joely was a life-saver. Then she turns around, expecting to see-and seeing-the guest cabin. Téa's breathing picks up a bit as she gets to her feet, slowly. She is alone it would seem. No Dean, no babies...nobody.

The difference between the memory and where she is now, this seeming dream or vision or whatever, is that the house and cabin are dark and not a little disconcerting. There's a strong wind whipping at her and Téa rubs her arms for warmth as she stares at the cabin looming in front of her. Now she sees that the windows have a dim, yellowish glow to them, implying lights on inside. So she walks toward it, treading very lightly, not knowing what to expect. When she gets to the wooden steps she stops, afraid of what might happen if she steps up and the boards creak. Then the cabin door opens, seemingly on its own. The cozy yellow glow spills out onto the porch and lights her up.

She swallows hard. "Who's there?"

No one answers, of course...and Téa sighs, looking around again nervously, before walking up the steps. She stops just inside the doorway, and looks in. The room looks just as it did before, and her eyes move over everything, the fireplace, the couch, the table and finally the bed…

...where Roseanne sits.

Or poses, is more like it. She is stretched out over the foot of the bed, leaning on one arm, her legs bent and curled behind her slightly. She looks good, radiating a bit of a glow herself; but from _what_ though, Téa has no idea. She just stares at her, stunned.

"Hola, tia..." Roseanne purrs. "...'pasa?"

Téa takes a few steps in, but doesn't approach her. She moves over to the table behind the couch instead, standing right in front of her, like she's having an audience with some kind of royalty. "What're YOU doing here?" she finally whispers, and Roseanne pouts, faking hurt.

"Oh, come on...aren't you as happy to see ME as I am to see YOU? We've been SO worried about you, Téa."

Téa narrows her eyes suspiciously. "Who's WE?"

"My new FAMILY," Rosie answers, brightening sarcastically. "RJ...and Todd...they've been taking REAL good care of me," she says, as she slinks off the bed and takes a step toward her.

Téa backs up against the table. "How is that possible? You're in jail."

Roseanne spreads her skinny arms out wide. "Not anymooooorrrre..." she sings, laughing a little and sighing. "Oh Téa… I gotta tell you, it's SO good to be outta there. And YOU…," she says, pointing at her, "...you REALLY know how to pick 'em. Todd and RJ are definitely THE baddest of the bad boys."

Téa shakes her head at that. "I don't believe you. You couldn't have gotten out of there."

"Well...not without help. Those boys were absolutely brilliant."

"And I don't believe that Todd or RJ would've helped YOU do ANYTHING."

"Believe it or not...it's the truth."

Silence fills the room, both women staring each other down. Then Roseanne walks up to her, gliding almost. Téa looks her in the eyes, then down at the floor. Instinctively, she wants to directly avoid her gaze. Like a monster of some sort.

"What do you want?" she asks tiredly.

Roseanne shrugs. "Like I said...we're all so worried about you. So I thought I'd try to find you...and here you are. Only...HERE isn't QUITE where I thought it would be. We must've just missed you."

Téa looks up at that, doing a take. "Are you FOLLOWING ME?"

Roseanne lifts her eyebrows, grinning.

Téa studies her a moment and then laughs it off. "Yeah, right. SURE. You don't know anything."

"Don't believe me?" Roseanne asks, innocently, and grins again. "I see...the skeptic needs proof," she says, sighing again. "Okay...how 'bout this. Right now, at this very moment, the three of us are in England, on our way to 305 Filinger Road in a godforsaken town called...Cantshire." She speaks with a mock accent, thoroughly enjoying Tea's widening eyes. "That's right, we're on our way to that cozy little love nest you've been sharing with HIM."

Téa gasps slightly and Roseanne giggles. "Pretty good, huh?"

"That's impossible. There's no way you could've known- no, no, this is MY dream. Of course I know the address and I'm putting the knowledge of it in your mouth."

"Oh I see. Clever, true. Except… I thought you understood."

"Understood WHAT?"

"ME!" Roseanne yells back, pointing at herself. "I thought I got it through to you the last time I saw you. *I* THOUGHT I made myself pretty clear."

"All I remember is you threatening my children from behind bars," Téa snaps, and Roseanne grins again.

"Oh, so you DO remember. That's good."

"What're you doing, Roseanne? What's your fucking POINT?" Tea has moved closer, wanting to get in her face now. The two of them stare daggers at each other from inches away…

Roseanne whispers: "What I'm DOING is making good on my promise."

Téa backs up a touch. "You're serious."

Roseanne cocks an eyebrow...and Tea shakes her head, laughing again. "Okay, lemme get this straight. So...you're out of jail, TODD and RJ helped you escape, and the three of you are tracking me now...AND...you're STILL planning to kill my sons."

Roseanne nods. "Pretty much. We used a laundry truck to escape, by the way. You don't know that information but a newspaper will tell you as much. In case you're still on this 'it's my dream and my knowledge' thing."

Téa folds her arms. "Okay, I'll play. You REALLY think Todd's going to let you anywhere near me? Let alone near the kids?"

Again, a terrible grin spreads across Roseanne's face and she laughs...softly at first, then louder and more obnoxiously, as she walks away from her. "You'd be SURPRISED what Todd LETS me do these days."

The words send a sickening feeling through Téa's body as she watches Roseanne crawl back onto the bed and stretch out like a contented cat. Then she rolls over onto her side, facing Téa again. "Isn't this where you guys...um...y'know...for the first time…," she says, making a fist and pushing it out suggestively.

Tea just looks away, disgusted...and Roseanne laughs again.

"Ooh...SORRY. Not up for girl talk, I guess? Pity...I'd love to compare notes."

Téa's eyes dart right back at that and after a moment, after studying Roseanne's glowy face some more, Téa starts to tear up. "What are you saying?" she whispers, taking a few steps toward her and Roseanne rolls her eyes.

"Ugh...here we go...Waterworks Delgado. Turn on the tears and out pours the sympathy. That is SO OLD. And you should know better than to try that shit with ME. Like you're so INNOCENT." Her words slide out with such venom. "You think I don't know what YOU'VE been doing? You think Todd doesn't know? Are you THAT STUPID?"

Téa is paralyzed, speechless, and Roseanne slides off the bed again, approaching her once more. "Oh, come on. You were always saying we never got along because we had no common ground. Well, NOW we do. We've both fucked the same guys, so we should have PLENTY to talk about NOW, right?"

Tea just keeps staring at her, unable to say anything. Finally, she drops her head, knowing this is just a dream, her own guilt talking...and Roseanne reaches out, lifting it back up by the chin. "Come on...I wanna hear ALL about it. ALL the juicy details," she hisses...and Téa glares at her with wet eyes for a second before reaching up and knocking her hand away, forcefully.

Roseanne's eyes widen, and she backs off a touch.

"DON'T touch me," Téa whispers, pointing at her, and Roseanne just laughs, putting her hands up in a phony defense.

"OOOOH...don't hurt me, killer."

"You don't scare me, Roseanne. Not even a little," Téa replies, and Roseanne's eyebrow lifts again.

"Oh, but...you SHOULD be scared."

Téa makes a confused face at that, as Roseanne starts to walk around her.

"I mean, after all, my plan's worked BEAUTIFULLY so far, even BETTER than I expected. Those visions I sent you, those little hints...they sent you right over the edge, just like I thought they would. And Todd, well...he doesn't need much prodding before HE busts a spring, so, I figured you guys would just go at each other's throats and destroy each other from the inside out-and you are-but I had NO IDEA you'd go running to Dean! That is SO AWESOME, Téa! So deliciously BAAAAD..." she says, back in front of Téa now. Then she suddenly sighs, glancing upward. "Wish I'D thought of it."

Téa looks at her, quickly learning, realizing. "Are you telling me that you _planted_ those nightmares in my head?"

Roseanne gets right in her face. "DUH," she replies, and then turns on her heel, strolling away from her again. "Not that they were so far-fetched," she continues. "I mean, *I* think it's perfectly reasonable to assume that Todd would become a child abuser, given all that history." She grabs onto the bedpost and starts swinging on it. "He really IS fucked up...and I mean FUUUUUCKED up. I SERIOUSLY doubt there'll be any getting him back this time."

"What are you talking about?" Téa asks, and Roseanne stands back up straight.

"What I'm talking about is stuff you DON'T know. Stuff you can't put into a dream. I'm talking about lines being crossed. He's done things to me, Téa...terrible, terrible things. You thought he was healed, you thought he'd NEVER do such things… again..." Roseanne's head jerks and she suddenly stops, looking all around, as if she hears something.

Téa stares at her, mystified, until she sees something. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots movement in the shadows of the cabin. Something seems to take shape, the darkness molding itself into a solid form that emerges, slowly. Roseanne is still in her place, listening instead of looking behind her. Téa doesn't even get a chance to say anything as the form moves toward Roseanne and grabs her from behind. Roseanne freezes, unable to move or speak as the form locks around her…

… and becomes more recognizable to Téa. She watches ghostly, shadowy hands roam over Roseanne's chest, a face rubbing against her shoulder, its lighter hair mixing with hers, long strands falling downwards. Then it _-he-_ looks right up at Téa, and she is immobilized at the sight. Unable to look away, she sees him continue roughly grope Roseanne in front of her, his movements and gestures becoming even more suggestive of what's coming next. But the whole time, his eyes are locked with Tea's...steady, clear and shining with their own eerie light, like an animal's eyes in the dark.

The room fills with an awful stillness and Tea gets a feeling of absolute dread, a feeling that only comes when you realize, too late, that you're about to see or experience something truly terrible. Her lips part slightly as his mouth moves over Roseanne's shoulder, sucking on it like a lover would, except then he bites down on her, hard enough and deep enough to draw blood. Some of it seeps out, drawing red lines down the front of her chest. Roseanne doesn't react to it...she still seems frozen in place, unable to do anything about it.

Then the face lifts again, to look at Téa directly...and she feels her stomach drop to her knees. _Todd_ stares back at her, unblinking, licking his lips like a vampire in the middle of dinner. He lifts a hand to wipe his bloody chin before giving Roseanne a smacking kiss on the cheek, leaving a blood-red mark.

"Gracias, Rosie. I'll take it from here," he says, calmly, coldly...then he simply reaches up, grabs her head with both hands…

...and snaps her neck.

Téa gasps, her face going white. She wants to scream, wants to run...but just like Roseanne, she can't move. She is literally frozen in place.

Todd drops Roseanne, her body falling into a heap on the floor, which he casually steps over to approach Téa.

"So...THIS is where you're at, huh?" he asks…but all Téa can do is look at him, horrified. She breathes fast and rough, tears racing down her face. He makes soothing, shushing noises, using his thumbs to wipe her cheeks.

"It's okay, Delgado...everything'll be okay. You'll see. Nobody's gonna split us up...not that bitch, and not that thievin' fuck you're with, either. I'll fix 'em all..." With those beautiful light eyes she loves so much, he looks at her, eyes roving her entire body from head to toe, an indescribable expression on his face. "I will take care of everything...and then it'll just be us again. You, me, Evan and Brendan...the way it should be."

They look at each other for a moment...then Todd moves in to kiss her with bloodied lips. Téa backs up, whimpering, finally getting up enough strength to move. She pushes him away and bolts out the door, tripping down the steps. She doesn't look behind her as she runs away, but she knows he's watching her, knows he's coming after her.

 _I'll show you who I am...be more than happy to...you just wait and see..._

Téa wakes with a start, gasping and pitching forward in the seat. Dean looks over at her, and puts an arm out to stop her from hitting the dashboard.

"Whoa, hey...you alright?" he asks, looking between her and the road.

Téa holds onto his arm for a moment, as she catches her breath...then she gently pushes him off, nodding.

"Must've been a pretty bad dream," he says, putting both hands back on the wheel. He looks up at the rearview, checking the boys...both still asleep. Téa covers her face with her hands for a moment, rubbing her eyes roughly.

"God..." she mutters. "I need a newspaper - I have to - something local to Pennsylvania."

Dean looks over at her again. "What happened?"

Téa rubs her face one more time and gives him a sidelong glance. Then she shakes her head, sighing. "I'd tell you, but...you'd think I was insane."

"Well, I already KNOW you're insane, so," he replies with that trademark, disarming calm and Tea looks over at him, always surprised at how well it works on her, no matter how bad things are...just the right amount of humor to distract, and lift the weight of the thoughts bearing down on her.

She laughs a little. A very little. "Thank you," she says, and he looks back at her, smirking...pleased with his successful effort to make her smile.

"You're welcome. Now let's hear it."

Téa glances out the window, her mind suddenly going back to the dream. She knows it's only her own thoughts that occupied the dream but… then… there was that tidbit about the laundry truck. Couldn't be, she thinks. Just her own thoughts. She rubs her forehead to distract herself. "I dreamt I was back at Joely's house."

"Who?"

"Joely Atherton...she was Todd's therapist. When we broke up, he came up here to get treatment. I came up later, and we got back together...decided to build our house nearby." Téa says this wistfully, the memories of the all-too-brief, happy time suddenly flooding her mind.

 _"...I think you and Starr'll LIKE living off the land and all that crap...nice change from the Penthouse."_

 _"...oh, okay...all that crap, or the penthouse. That's it, Manning. I'm leaving you."_

 _"That's too bad. I was thinking of building here."_

 _"Building what...the bomb shelter?"_

 _"You're so weird, Delgado."_

 _"...okay, sorry...um...building what?"_

 _"That house I told you I wanted. You remember...with the springer spaniel...and the picket fence. Well?"_

 _"I think...that's the best idea you've ever had."_

Téa pauses for a bit, as the memory fades, letting her head rest on the seat back. "Anyway...that's where I was in this dream, in the cabin where Todd and I had stayed. But Roseanne was there..."

 _Roseanne..._ Dean looks over at that, with a more concerned face that she doesn't see.

"...and I swear to god, it didn't feel like a dream. It felt like...like I was REALLY THERE. And SHE was really there. We argued...she told me all kinds all crazy things."

"Like what?" he asks. Téa makes a sound, sort-of like a laugh, but also like a frightened breath.

"She told me that she escaped from Statesville...and that RJ and TODD helped her do it using a laundry truck," she says, turning her head to look at him. He looks away, but she sees the more serious look on his face. Eyes still on him, she says, "She also told me that...they all know I'm with you. And that they're following us. Crazy."

Dean shrugs, murmuring a "Hmm..."

...and Tea gets a bad feeling from his non-reaction. "She knew the exact address of the house in England. She said...that's where they are right now but that doesn't mean anything because I know the address… but the laundry thing? The escape?"

"That was SOME dream."

"You don't seem surprised by any of it," she replies, and he tries to shrug it off.

"Well, it was just a dream, Téa ...you have to remember that."

She stares at him for a long time, studying his profile as he continues to avoid her eyes.

"Is there something you wanna tell me?" she finally asks, and he just shakes his head. So she leans in closer to him, putting a hand on his arm. "Dean...look at me."

He huffs hard...and then finally drags his gaze to her. Her face softens, a silent plea for him to open up. He looks away again, bothered now. "It's nothin', I'm tellin' ya. Just...I dunno...freaky coincidence."

"WHAT is? Tell me."

He sighs again, running a hand through his hair. "Alright, look...when we were still in England...*I* had a pretty weird dream, too. I'd forgotten about it, but...your bringing up Roseanne reminded me. That's all."

Tea's eyes widen. "What do you mean? Did YOU see her too?"

Dean laughs...but nervously. "Uhhh..." he stutters, not wanting to admit to something as crazy as seeing a vision but he can't help but notice a disturbing similarity between their two 'dreams.' He suddenly remembers hearing Roseanne's voice, then seeing her coming out of the shadows...having the glow of daylight around her in the middle of the night.

 _Let's just say...I followed the rain._

"You saw her. Why didn't you tell me?"

He gives her a strange look. "Why would I tell you about THAT? It was just a stupid dream," he replies, but isn't convinced. Téa sits back from him.

"Oh, don't gimme that. You're as weirded out as *I* am. What did she say to you?"

Dean keeps his eyes forward, focusing on the road. "Well, she didn't say anything about busting out. All she said was..." he starts, his mind drifting back to her whispered words.

 _You don't have much time. Todd came to see me today...he knows, baby...he knows Téa's with you...and it won't be long until he finds this place. He WILL find you...and when he does, he won't be interested in talking things over. His rage...his fury...it's blinding him, taking him over. He can't control it...and you know what that means, D...he's going to hurt her...he's done it before, and he'll do it again._

"Something about...Manning...coming to see her. She said...he knew you were with me, and...that he'd be coming," he says, still remembering.

 _You need to move fast, baby...you need to win her...you need to make her see that she can't ever go back to him...because she's in danger...her children are in danger...their father is coming._

Téa says nothing, eyes on the road ahead. The words that get her… _he's coming._

Dean goes to look at her again, but his eyes catch sight of something up ahead. He slows down, pulling over.

Téa looks up at him and he points out the windshield. There in front of them, across the road, is the turnoff for the house...nothing more than a space between the trees, marked by a wood sign with _107 Bay Dr._ spray-painted on it.

"That's it," Téa says, sadly.

With a deep breath, Dean checks both directions then he drives back out and turns onto the dirt road. As the car bounces along, Téa finds herself starting to panic a little. The idea that Roseanne really _does_ seem to have some mystical power after all-and that she and Todd are somehow connected, working together even, and god knows what else-unnerves her. She needs the paper. She needs to know if the break is true, if the laundry truck was used.

But logic doesn't help.

Especially as they continue on through the darkened, tree-covered passage. It feels like a sort-of claustrophobia. She rubs her neck, pressing hard on the muscles, trying to stave off the feeling of walls closing in on her. They clear the trees just then and Dean slows to a stop. Both of them take in the house standing like a giant in the middle of the clearing. Once Dean turns off the engine, silence chases away the noise and fills the air. Dean whistles, admiring the spread.

Téa blinks slowly, looking at this place that's supposed to be her home, her castle in the sky, her _happily-ever-after._ She should be all warm inside and happy to see it...but she's not. Instead, she feels as empty and cold as the house appears to be.

Without a word, she gets out of the car and gently pushes the door closed. She takes a few steps around to the front of the car and looks the house over from side to side. It's dark and there are no lights anywhere. The place gives off a foreboding sensation rather than welcoming one. Téa wraps her arms around herself for warmth as a chilly wind blows through. She hears the lapping of water from the nearby lake, leaves skittering across the large front porch, and a billowing of a plastic sheet protecting unfinished spaces. She takes a deep breath, feeling the cold air dive down her throat, filling her lungs, as the house seems to call out to her…

 _What're you waiting for, Delgado? Come see what I built for you..._

She walks up to the steps, carefully climbing up to the front door, her footsteps echoing through the heavy wood planks. She hesitates to touch the doorknob, half-expecting it to just open on its own. She reaches out and runs her hand lightly over the door instead, making sure it's really _real_ and that she hasn't just walked into another dream.

Then she hears footsteps behind her, loud, clunky, undoubtedly Dean's heavy boots. The decidedly ungraceful sound jolts her out of her nightmarish thoughts and back into the real world. She looks over at him as he comes up beside her. They stare at each other for a moment in the dim light, the wind forcing them to close their eyes to narrow slits. He smiles at her thinly but tenderly and she sighs, relieved and calmed by his presence, yet again _…_

 _A magic all his own._

She looks back at the door and it doesn't seem so intimidating now. So she grabs the knob and turns it. The door pulls away with a squeak and a rush of air, revealing another dark space. Téa makes out doors and a hallway ...but not much else. Dean steps right in front of her, automatically pushing her behind him. He turns on the flashlight he's carrying and in its small, circular beam, they see the foyer, a staircase, a hallway leading back, and an archway to their left. He turns the beam that way and starts walking toward it, his steps echoing all around.

"Living room, I take it?" he asks, casually, shining the beam along the walls.

Téa nods...and he turns around, shining the beam on her.

"Or would it be the SITTING ROOM?" he says, with a mock English accent.

Téa squints, holding a hand up to block the light. "Ain't no sittin' rooms in this house, Jeeves."

Dean cracks up at that, turning the flashlight back around. He finds the large fireplace, and walks over to it. "A-ha. Well," he says, squatting down to get a better look at it. "Guess I better go dig up some wood so we don't freeze to death."

Téa sits down on the hearth next to him, and he looks over at her.

"You sure you don't wanna just find a motel? Least they'd have electricity, running water."

She sighs, knowing it's crazy to stay in the unfinished house when civilization isn't _that_ far away. But still, something is telling her not to leave...so she shakes her head. "Maybe in a while, but...not right now."

Dean sighs, too, and then shrugs. "Okay." He stands up, pulling her up with him. "Why don't you go back to the car until I get the fireplace going?"

She nods, but doesn't move. They're standing so close together, she can feel his breath on her face. And she likes it...that sense of closeness, protective warmth.

Dean looks down at her, fighting a strong urge to kiss her; but he keeps it in check, as he takes her hand and starts leading her out. They walk back out and down the steps...and then Dean leaves her to go around to the back of the house.

As Téa starts back to the car, she sees a pair of headlights coming toward her. She whirls around. "Dean!" she calls but he's out of earshot. She turns back around, as the car clears the trees and pulls up behind their car. Téa tries to see who it is. She sort-of recognizes the car, its shape and color seeming familiar. The person gets out, standing up slowly, and weakly...and Téa squints harder, unable to tell if it's a man or a woman.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" the person says, in a proper English accent, and Téa lets out a breathy laugh, slapping her hands over her mouth, immediately relieved.

"Oh my god...Joely!" she says, running over to her.

The woman gives her a strange, unfriendly look, until she's up close and can see her face. Then it melts away to a huge smile. "Téa!" she exclaims, as Téa practically knocks her over with a hug, laughing nervously. Joely pats her on the back, but doesn't return the squeeze, which Téa notices.

Téa pulls away, clearing her wind-blown hair out of her face. "Oh, god...I'm so happy to see you," she whispers...all the time taking in Joely's face. Something about it seems different. But Joely just smiles gracefully.

"Ohhh...it's lovely to see YOU, my dear, but...what are you doing here?"

Téa laughs again, a heavy laden sound, shrugging. "That's, uh...that's a long story. What are YOU doing here?"

"Well, Todd asked me to keep an eye on the house until you moved up here. So I come by every day or so just make sure nothing's been disturbed," Joely replies, reading Téa's look. She's about to say something when she sees someone coming out from behind the house. "Oh...who's that?" she asks, not recognizing the man's shape or gait.

Téa turns and sees Dean carrying an armload of wood into the house. She turns back around to Joely with a guilty look which makes Joely regain a look of suspicion.

"Téa, what's going on here? This is all very strange."

Téa runs a hand over her hair, sighing, busted like a high school girl crawling out of her boyfriend's bedroom. "Yeah, it is...ummm, well...something, uh...something bad has happened. Things are...not so good with Todd and me," she replies, and there's a short silence as the two women look at each other.

Finally, Téa takes Joely's hand.

"Why don't you come inside? I can explain everything...it's too cold out here."

Joely nods, suspiciously, but she allows Téa to lead on, although _very_ slowly. Téa notices the distinct frailty in her steps. She wants to ask, but doesn't dare, at least not now.

 _She's_ the one with all the explaining to do...especially when they finally get to the steps, and Dean emerges from the doorway. He makes eye contact with them and freezes at the sight of the old woman. Joely looks up at him, taking a moment to place his face...then her eyes widen.

"Oh my god," she says, looking over at Téa. "What the bloody hell is HE doing here? Isn't this your kidnapper?!"

Téa and Dean just look at each other...then Téa just gazes upwards at the heavens, and Dean shuts his.

"Great," he mutters.

 **To be continued….**


	27. Chapter 27

**ART OF THE DARK - PART 27**

The only thing making noise in the Range Rover is the engine, and it's not much more than a gentle hum, matching the smoothness of the rolling English countryside passing by. Even though all the controls are on the right side, Todd handles them well, staying on the left side of the road like he's native, relaxed looking, mostly. RJ doubts things are as quiet inside Todd's head and it looks like there's one main thing rocking and popping in there...

 _Roseanne._

Behind him, she sniffles, clears her throat, fucking _breathes_ too loud, and instantaneously his eyes fly to the rear-view mirror to watch her two, three seconds maybe. It's making RJ even more anxious than he already is and the closer they get to their destination, the less he wants to get there.

 _What would Téa be coming home to? Nothing. Her man is dead._

RJ rolls down the window, taps his fingers along the edge, and feels the air of a typically overcast day blast across his face. The pilot told him zilch of what happened and yet he said it all. He'd keep quiet about _things_ and if necessary, he'd dispatch Todd and Roseanne. He'd shut their yaps to keep RJ out of shit he didn't create. Not such a bad idea. Couple of shots to their punk-ass heads _...bam, bam, BAM…_ and things would be done _._ One last to the demon's sack for good measure.

A sign tells them Cantshire's not all that many kilometers away and Todd slows the car, craning his neck to see out the window, muttering, "Which way? Fuckin' Brits..." No question, it's confusing. The sign's sitting at a funky angle appearing to have been hit and righted with no care to ensure it's pointing in the right way. RJ can't help for shit since he lost track of where they were going miles ago.

Maybe he did it intentionally.

Roseanne chuckles, drawing Todd's watchful eyes again. Running a hand through his long hair which keeps getting in his face, he finally grumbles, "Fuck it." He spins the wheel to the left so hard Roseanne yelps as she hits the door with her body. The truck gains speed quickly because if it's a wrong turn, he's got to come back and he's in a big hurry.

Once recovered, she chortles from the back seat, "Dear me, you mean the Great One can't see ALL? Does he need a mappie-wappie?"

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, Rosie. I'll get us there." He smirks bitterly, glancing over at RJ as he swerves to follow along the sharply veering road, muttering as he does so, "Stupid bitch."

Huffing a response, RJ's lip twitches in sheer hatred as he taps his fingers on the door again, hearing Roseanne's sickening laughter. _Goddamn,_ he thinks, _two more words out of them and I'M gonna pop 'em both. Hell with the go-between pilot._

His thoughts of being blissfully free are interrupted though by a heavily guarded road a block ahead of them, ominous yellow tape threading tall grass alongside the road. A whole slew of _bobbies_ wandering the area _._ RJ, Todd and Roseanne get serious at the sight, because they sure as hell don't look like typical tourists. And cops, no matter what country, are not a good thing for them. RJ's suddenly concerned, too, about what exactly the yellow tape is covering up. He thinks of Téa and the boys, imagining an ugly image of flesh and blood in a field, and instinctively looks at Todd to see if he's even remotely concerned. Sure, this would be on a level with major paranoia, but paranoia's Todd's thing...and to see it would be evidence that he's not completely changed.

The car slows down tremendously. Todd asks softly, "What do we do?"

RJ's question is answered: there's not a bit of worry in those cold eyes about the crime. Nope, he's only concerned about his own ass. No Téa, no Brendan or Evan, they don't warrant a blip. _What's it gonna take to wake him up?_ Maybe he needs to see the dead bodies...except by then, it'll be too late. RJ hushes the dark thoughts, not wanting to think on it any longer. What it's gonna take, he fears, is something too ominous, too ugly.

"Keep cool, man," he says at last. "It's all we CAN do."

Seizing an opportunity to cause unnecessary pain, Roseanne eases up to Todd from behind him, resting her chin on his shoulder so she can whisper in his ear, "You think they wanna hear about what you did to me?"

Todd can't say a thing, can't respond the way he'd like since an officer is beginning to make his way to the car. She takes a fleshy lobe in between her teeth, making sure to lick it, to wet it good, seeing his eyelids wilt as he tries to maintain a whole lot of 'cool.' He turns slightly to get away but there's no way to do it. Roseanne, loving the restraint he's struggling for, rubs her cheek against his neck, the fiery tension in his muscles too delectable for words.

RJ groans softly, "Come on, Roseanne… knock that shit off..."

But he can't do much either under the scrutiny of another officer, which only further feeds her pursuit for _extreme discomfort._ The cop is only feet away from the car, stopping a second to read the license plate, turning when someone asks a question of him. Firmly attaching her lips to Todd's now-heated skin, she sucks until she hears him making a sound which reminds her of muzzled pit bull. Seeing the officer move still closer, she says, "Shhh...watch the walk of the man with the gun, baby," as she places her palm flat against Todd's chest to rub lasciviously. She pulls her hand up just as the black and white garbed officer reaches the window, just as the _bobby_ reads a registration sticker on the window. Trailing her fingers up towards Todd's shoulder as if she's going to release him, eliciting a relieved sigh, she then shoves her hand down his shirt, stopping to pinch his nipple. _Hard._

Todd coughs at the pain, his hand slamming down on hers. He's perspiring because he has to fake it all the way and he knows Roseanne is getting off on it. The officer, wearing a bullet-proof vest over a short-sleeved shirt, eyes all of them, roving the inside of the car, his gaze returning to Roseanne's activities.

At that, she smiles, says in a breathy voice, "Hey there, 'bobby.' Isn't that what you guys are called over here?"

"State your business," the constable says in a thick British accent, pushing his checkered-front hat back a tad.

She sighs, "We're on our honeymoon." Nuzzling him, she gives Todd another pinch and he manages a tightly set smile, appearing to agree.

The officer makes a face, instantly confused...and revolted. "All THREE of you?"

"Yeah. We're American, y'know...free love and 'alternative lifestyles', if you know what I mean," Roseanne says slickly, giving him a wink and then glancing at RJ, wagging her tongue sexily.

He smiles back at her, tightly. He chuckles audibly and casually looks out the window. He's so pissed he can hardly breathe, but he keeps an eye out, hoping to figure out what the tape's for. That's when he gets a view of a morgue transport vehicle. He hopes the sinking feeling in his gut is just paranoia. The officer continues to look them over, teetering over what he's being told.

"What are your day's plans?"

"Just takin' a trip to Dover's Cliffs," Todd says. "We're staying in London. Heading to Paris in a couple of days."

"Dover's Cliffs, ay? You're headed in the wrong direction for that."

Roseanne chuckles, nipping at Todd's neck, before saying, "Oh, we must have gotten a little turned around when we pulled off the road back a ways...silly us."

The officer's creased his brows, "Could happen. Mind telling me what hotel you're at in London, sir?"

Todd suddenly goes blank, "Hotel..." He laughs to cover it up, "Must be jet lag..."

It doesn't work, the officer developing a curious, more-than-suspicious look on his face.

Roseanne whispers, "Or too much shagging..."

RJ leans over and says, "We're staying at the Strand Palace Hotel."

"Under what names, sir? I'll give them a jangle, if you don't mind." Another high-ranking officer approaches the car because this is taking too long.

"Problems, old boy?"

"We've got some honeymooners, apparently...THREE of them," the first officer says, his tone implying everything. The second officer looks into the car and Todd grins without showing teeth. He then reaches a hand for RJ's, squeezing RJ's hand, "We always wanted to see England. We saved up a long time for this trip."

Roseanne kisses Todd hard on his neck, breathing in deeply and sighing, "Mmmm… we've been together forever."

"Right. Well..." He flashes the same look of mild disgust at the other officer, pausing to scan them all one more time. Then he sighs. "I see no reason to hold them up further. Best to get them behind locked doors. Quickly."

The first officer clears his throat and stands up straight. Nods, "All right then. Go on, turn right around if you're still on your way to the Cliffs, and no more pulling over, sir. Don't want to get yourself into a spot of trouble, if you know what I mean."

"Thanks for the advice." With that Todd gives RJ's hand a last squeeze and says to the officers, "Have a good day, then. God save the Queen."

Then he punches the gas and drives on through the roadblock. Like instructed, they turn around and drive back down the road. Once in the clear, Todd growls to Roseanne who's still got a good hold of him, "Get the fuck off me or I swear to GOD I'll pull over...and it won't be to SHAG."

Roseanne pulls away, collapsing back against the seat, laughing like a hyena. "Ohhhh...that was so much fun...oh, Mr. Manning, you were so HOT back there...literally! I actually think you and RJ have some pretty hot chemistry! What I wouldn't give to see you two fuck!"

She keeps laughing and RJ ignores her, saying to Todd, "Saw a morgue transport back there...there's dead bodies in that field."

"Dead Brits. Who gives a shit?"

"What if they're dead AMERICANS?"

Todd shrugs, not getting the hint. "I should care...why?"

"Oh, well...SHELTON is why you should care. He was on a JOB here, remember? Kinda hinky that we'd run into the cops on THIS PARTICULAR ROAD, dontcha think?" RJ snaps his fingers in front of Todd's face. "Hello! Are you listening to me?"

Todd appears on the surface to be unaffected, except his eyes are now looking in the rear-view mirror, in the side-view one...not at Roseanne. He looks back at the road ahead of him, then at the mirrors once more. He's thinking about it. He bites the inside of his lip, goes to the mirrors again. RJ sighs.

"That's right, bro...my guess is whatever happened back there has something to do with HIM. I just hope that's not Téa in that field. Hope it's not your kids." He's distanced himself from the likelihood of it, actually...but he's using the idea. Maybe it'll trigger something in the demon next to him, maybe it will rouse him.

Todd's eyes lose their steadiness, his face blanching slightly. Suddenly he squeezes those lids shut, opens them again, shakes his head. "Nah...it's not," he says, "I'd know if it was."

Cluing in, Roseanne has ceased her hysteria, "You think Téa's dead, RJ? That what you're saying?" Not even looking at her, RJ just throws his forearm up, half-assed, letting it flop back down. She sighs...like the idea's a good one.

"One could only hope."

Todd's had it, slamming on the brakes and directing the car to the side of the road, garnering a curse from RJ. Todd whips around to Roseanne, reaching for her, but not quite touching her. He's grinning now, moving his head slowly from side to side, his eyes gleaming. "She better NOT be dead, Roseanne. Those kids better not be dead. Because they're ALL YOU HAVE for me to keep you alive. Without them, without your 'sight'...I have no reason to let you keep breathing."

RJ sniffs tiredly and releases the safety again on the nine he keeps damn handy...Todd glances at steely eyes, at the gun's barrel. He growls, "Can you fuckin' lay off that?"

"Can you fuckin' lay off HER?"

"Tell her to lay off ME, and I'll lay off her."

"What do I look like to you, some schoolhouse MUM? Turn down that side road and DRIVE!"

After glaring at RJ a couple seconds more, Todd shifts back in the seat, getting the truck back on the road. They double back down the side road and down another that parallels the closed road, heading back towards Cantshire, quickly. Everything quiets again. There's simply nothing to say, nothing to do other than wait. And the waiting...it's interminable. It's like sitting in a hot bath, waiting for a shower of cold water. You're begging for relief...but nothing happens, only more waiting. The road's monotonous, almost hypnotic.

 _Téa ...who are you to me? What can you be to me, now...after all that's happened? What can I be...to you?_

He sees her vividly, in his head. She's sitting on steps looking into his eyes. A wary expression plays at the corners of her coffee-colored eyes, expectation brushes her lips a pale pink. Her skin is fair, gorgeous and unmarked. She wears a silky, black strapless dress, the skirt bearing blood-red roses and falling daintily around her bare feet. Her knees poke upwards, her hands back against a porch's dry planks. Her hair is messy, like she's been sleeping. The fabric, he sees now, it's wrinkled. Yes, she's been sleeping for sure. There's no wedding ring on her finger. Her eyes move up his length, along his body…

He's not human he realizes. He cannot tell the kind of creature he's become. A wolf maybe, a dog.

 _"I'm not afraid of you,"_ she says. _"I know what you're capable of, I've seen it."_

He offers a singular response, a low growl coming from the depths of his parched throat. He's pacing in front of her. She laughs lightly, throwing her head back slightly.

 _"You should be caged,"_ she says. _"That's what happens to your sort. It doesn't matter how sleek your coat is, how gracious your walk. Doesn't matter how pretty your canines are. You're dangerous and therefore you need to be silenced."_

Stretching his muscles, lifting his rump, he lays at her feet, looking up at her. His large paws touch her toes, his claws retracted. She smiles, lines on her forehead appearing…

 _"You're trying to say I tame you, I pacify you. But I don't believe I do. The way you tore apart the elephant calf tells me so. You didn't even leave enough for the vultures."_

Rolling onto his back, he offers his tongue...wetting the side of her foot. He laps at her skin.

 _"You...are an animal,"_ she says. _"There's no return for you. No hope of anything better than a cage."_

The vision is gone. As quickly as she arrived, she has slipped away, leaving him behind. Outside the Range Rover, the world takes on a yellow-gray tint, trees dotting distant hills and grassy slopes, shadows promising rain from gray clouds. Even the massive homes made of stone and mortar are grayed. Everything is twisted, turned. Todd grips the steering wheel tightly, licking his lips because he's desperately thirsty. He glimpses Roseanne in the rear-view mirror, focusing on her high cheekbones as she watches the passing terrain, knowing intensely the feel of those bones against his own face. He places everything that's happened on her...it's _her_ fault. With one easy swipe, he could break her. He could do it now.

 _Now...now… pull over and kill her._

What holds him back? The pistol at RJ's reach...or Téa's voice calling him an animal. Easily she says it. Matter of fact. Rolling off her tongue.

 _You're vicious._

He wraps his hand around his own throat, sensing the ceaseless pulse there. His skin doesn't feel like his own...it's clammy, cold, as if he's touching someone else's neck, and within seconds, the memory of what he's done plays out in front of him, a cruel, sepia-toned loop of horror. He's committed an unthinkable crime against humanity, against everything he'd attached himself to: morality, family, love, fatherhood, peace, joy. Another woman has become his victim out of revenge because he was compelled to teach her a lesson in power.

 _Because she fucking asked. And you won, too. Don't forget that._

He's tearing her apart and she holds the length of his hair like she can control his damage of her. He's got a raging erection at the thought of it and he adjusts himself to ease the discomfort. He can see in their battle that she is desperate to lessen his strength, but she doesn't make a dent. He watches the whole thing from start to finish, watches from the sidelines, walking around them. She's so quiet at last, her eyes sticking to the lights overhead as her body burns against the carpet. She reads writing plastered on the ceiling.

 _What's up there?_

Todd looks...oh yes, warnings about exits. Code required. How strange those red words look, how odd that the concept of safety floats in the air the way ducks do on a pond. How ironic, being that she's so very _unsafe._ Todd's sick to his stomach as the loop goes on. Relentlessly it plays. Relentless, like he was in his wounding of her. He argues with himself: the thing on top of Roseanne isn't anything like _him,_ is it? He learned his own lesson in life about such things. So many people along the way taught him, helped him, cured him. What is he doing this for? How can he do it?

 _Cured? The only curing was of your soul...like smoked meat...set out to dry...set out to burn in the salts of your sin. You were never healed...only delayed._

The animal above Roseanne's thin frame is close to ejaculating and he's up now on his hands, pounding inside of her, and he's gritting his teeth because it feels too good to have _THIS_ much control and _THIS_ much power and _THIS_ much domination. The demon laughs and says something to her out of Todd's hearing range. _Play it again,_ Todd tells himself. He doesn't understand, can't quite make the words out.

 _Come on, what does the THING say to the girl? What, what, what...?_

Replay...replay...a repeating dip of his head, a last cry from Roseanne. Her lips are so tender, so feminine, and her eyes are girlish. What does the monster say?

 _"Send me back to hell."_

The story stops playing and his cock softens because the orgasm happened and it was so fucking good that no real life masturbation could even come close to the recollection of it. Todd wipes the back of his neck because the loop has ripped his head apart. He's got a migraine now and the light from the outside makes everything worse. He's going to have to puke at some point and it would be best to simply pull over and lie down in a dark space. Maybe when he wakes up, he'll know what's happened, he'll understand.

 _Send me back to hell._

He wanted her to kill him for what he was doing. Doesn't the monster know he's already there though?

The sign ahead points out Cantshire, RJ confirming it by reading it aloud. Todd looks over at RJ, his voice sounding disconnected like they're in some sort of echo chamber.

 _It's not real,_ he thinks. _He's dreaming is what it is. Right? A nightmare? Right?_

"Wait...there's Filinger," RJ says in a deep tone, heavy with who-knows-what.

"Follow the yellow-brick road," Roseanne hisses. They're finally where they're supposed to be. And maybe Téa is there, a woman he's been chasing after. A woman who birthed his children...his boys...and they don't know who their father is. Those boys, they don't know that Roseanne didn't do as he asked, that their father still walks the earth, that he wasn't killed, that he wasn't sent back to hell. Roseanne didn't have the fight in her to do it. She just lay there and stewed in the assault, fighting just enough to amuse the demon, to get him _off._ He can remember that feeling. He can hear his own feral lasting groan, can see a string of spit fall from his mouth. He can see in Roseanne's eyes the fact that the lesson is over, the relief. The disbelief that she lost to him. She played with fire and got burned badly.

And so did he, just like the woman in Fallstown said. He'd lose himself to the Devil.

"I need a drink or something," Todd says in a scratchy voice. RJ doesn't have anything, and gazes at Todd.

"What's up...you sick?"

"No, I'm okay. I just need something to drink. I have to stop."

"We're right there, Manning! We're not stopping now!"

"I need something to drink."

Roseanne is on him, chuckling from the back, "You need a sip from a cow's teat, baby? 'cause cows are all that's out there. Or maybe you want to suckle from mine?"

"I need a drink."

"The hell's wrong with you, man?"

Slamming on the brakes, Todd opens the door and practically falls out of the truck wandering away into an open field, the grass tall against his legs. Things are incredibly confusing at this point and he's scared because he's really losing it. His head feels like someone's in there with a sledgehammer, bashing away like...like _...like before._

 _Oh GOD,_ he hasn't lost it like this in...well, it's been a while since he was in pieces and people lived inside of him and he was shattered and made to think the way a broken tea cup would think, sharp and edgy and quaint and cute and sweet and fucking _unglued._ And he's feeling awfully shattered right now, feeling skinned alive.

Looking in the tall grass he sees the bodies of Tea and Brendan and Evan...they've been slaughtered. There's nothing left of them...

 _Send me back to hell. Send me...send...send..._

He knows Téa isn't at the Filinger place. It's been abandoned. He can't figure out where she is, though, talking from that porch, calling him an animal. She's right, though...she's right. Every bit of her is right. The way she gazes at him, the way she views him. RJ says he will find her...just to keep her from him.

 _Send me...send me...send me back to Hell._

It isn't long before he feels RJ yanking on his long coat, dragging him, yelling at him,

"What...you scared now? Don't wanna face the truth?!"

"Shut up...shut up...you don't understand..."

"No, I understand crystal, my man! YOU FUCKED IT UP! You wanna blame somebody for her running? Then blame yourself!"

Todd turns to RJ, swatting at the hand that's got a hold of him, "Don't you think I know that?!"

"No! I don't think you know a GOD-damned thing! But guess what...it's too late to hide, Manning! You say you can 'see' things? Well, come on down! Get in that fuckin' house and tell me where she's gone!"

"Maybe she's dead, like you said. Maybe there's no point in looking inside that house."

Todd's looking at RJ with a realness that's not been around in a long while, and RJ thinks it's the Todd he once knew, the one who loved Téa, the one who'd protect her… and who sometimes hurt her without meaning to. He thinks he's looking at the guy who had himself under control, who was always reaching for love. _Man...not sure though...maybe THAT guy's dead._ Beyond repair, beyond hope.

Breathing in deeply, RJ shakes his head, "You don't get to be scared now, man. You want to be a fuckin' animal? FINE. Then you DEAL with everything that comes with it. All that pain, and loss...it's all yours now, dog...every bit of it."

Todd motions to Roseanne who's hopped outside the car and is watching them. "She deserved what she got."

"Oh, you think? Well, what about Téa? What about your boys? What do THEY deserve? You think you live in some kind of goddamned vacuum where you can act this shit out without re-per-cussions? You THAT stupid?!" RJ laughs bitterly, "Oh man..." He returns his gaze to Todd. "Naw, son. You don't get to be scared."

Todd has nothing to say to any of it, glancing down at what's left of him. He's on the edge of sanity now, he can feel it. And he holds onto RJ's gaze like he's a lifeline, like RJ can pull him out of this sinkhole. He nods slightly...it can only be a kind of assent. He ambles toward the truck, RJ a couple of feet behind him. The black coat hangs down and there's a breeze and Todd's walking like he's headed to the gallows, which is okay, which is righteous.

What's bad though is Roseanne. She's grinning like she's got a fuckin' goose in her mouth, much less a canary. Oh yeah, she knows Todd's barely hanging on. She's on it.

"Ooooh, what's wrong, babeeee...lost your teddy bear?"

RJ hisses, "For god's sake, Rosie, SHUT UP...Jesus..."

Todd climbs into the truck, ignoring Roseanne and keeping his eyes straight ahead. RJ gets in. Roseanne does, too. The engine gets going, the car bumping as Todd shifts into drive.

"You look so sad, baby. What are you thinking, what do you SEE? Are they dead? You think someone killed them...left 'em in that field to rot? Those poor babies...those sweet...tender...babies. Bloodied and raw, lying dead in the grass..." she laughs.

RJ turns slightly, "What part of 'SHUT UP' do you NOT get?!"

"I don't feel like shutting up. I feel like singing."

Todd watches the road, still needing water, still needing that drink. His head throbs with pain. They turn off the main road, onto the access road, where the Filinger cottage sits at the end of the line, waiting. He can see it from here. It's a plain box made of stone with a couple of windows and an old front door that's seen a lot of winters. There are no cars. There's no sign of life. A sharp, stinging sensation begins at the top of his head and starts moving downward...because he's splitting in fucking two...and then it will be three...then four. Everyone will come back. All those parts of him that he _thought_ had met up and fused.

 _No more...no more._

His mouth is dry, no spit to fall out here. No spit to tie him to Roseanne's body under him. Roseanne who is lying there taking all of him, taking everything he had to give her. Just fucking lying there...refusing to send him back to hell. Not giving him the pleasure of it.

 _Punishing her...it was right, it was proper...he was made to do it, he was pushed into doing it. She asked for it._

The truck comes to a stop and RJ gets out first. Then Roseanne. Todd stays where he's at. Puts his head down on the steering wheel. Lets spit fall out of his mouth, a long, slimy string of it...just like he saw on that loop in his head. It pools on the leather chair in between his legs. If he'd been Roseanne, he'd have killed his rapist. How much DNA had he left on her? He thought it had been in his head, but he knows better. He massages his cock, trying to recall the feelings. Nothing matches it though.

Nothing.

The door opens and it's RJ. "Get out."

Todd's robotic now, climbing out of the car and following RJ to the cottage door which opens easily, not having been locked. The place is as abandoned as he thought. Neat as a pin, as the saying goes. Todd walks through the place, the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom. He sees the bed. Sees how perfectly laid the linens are. Runs his hand across it. Someone took such care to tidy the one bed up. No sheets on the couch. No errant blanket or pillow...where a guest would have slept. He starts opening drawers, feeling for remnants of _her..._ faster and faster he searches every nook, every crack, every place where _she_ could be. He's sweating and working to stop his mind from sizzling like fucking bacon. Shit's flying everywhere inside of him, pinging about, thoughts, images, blood, flesh. And all the while he can hear Roseanne mocking him in their special way so RJ can't hear her.

 _Little angels sleeping the sleep of permanence. Rocking stiffs in cradles. A mother's body filleted, her parts warming the carcasses of children. Oh, Mr. Manning...oh, Mr. Satan's Son. Our love of the dark side has consumed our hearts...our breaths...our souls. Come to me, let me comfort you. Let me bury my head in your neck to taste your salty sweat. Let me love you...let yourself love ME, like you did before...like you did before._

Todd spins on his feet to face her. She's been following him, bee-like. RJ walks up to the two of them, but it's like he's not there. His eyes bounce in between the two and Todd's pleading with her, with his eyes.

She smiles. "Would you like me to stop?"

"I'm asking you not to push me now, Roseanne. For our own good, you know?" he says, quietly.

"What are you gonna do? Kill me? Like that'll give you relief? Like that will SAVE you?"

"I'm not looking to be saved. I'm looking for QUIET now. That's all."

RJ grabs Roseanne by the shoulders, "Alright, ENOUGH. Game's over!"

"Game's NEVER OVER," she says. "Don't you get that yet?"

"The only thing I GET is that Téa ain't here and I thought you knew everything!"

"Oh, I do. I know EXACTLY where she is...but obviously, poor Todd doesn't."

Todd seems to be drifting slightly, his eyes gliding over at the bed. Roseanne spots where he's gone and she leaves RJ, sliding onto the comforter. "You think she slept here? Alone?"

RJ groans... "Jesus… you gotta a death wish."

"Yeah, I think she does."

Todd shakes his head because it's so noisy and it hurts so much. He rubs the heel of his hand into his forehead, where the pounding starts. Where it spreads outwards and where he can feel the separate parts of him converging, twisting among each other, like twine ready to unravel. Like a mass of snakes. He suddenly thinks of Joely Atherton, whom he hasn't thought of in so long and wishes she were here now to help him.

 _Okay...just take a minute...and just breathe, like Doc always said..._

Roseanne laughs more, loudly, and it bounces all over the room. Suddenly, as if someone shines a flashlight into a dark corner, Todd can see Téa again, and she's looking around another room, taking it all in. Smiling sadly, with her head down, she says to a person to her side, _"At first I thought this was a strange place to go to get healed...but then I fell in love with it...and I knew he would get better here."_

The laughter breaks up the picture, Roseanne's cackling the worst static. She's looking right at Todd, "You think Dean's into her feet? You think he sucks her toes before he fucks her? He never did that with me...but then, he didn't love me...not like he loves Téa."

RJ starts to grab her, to tear her away, because he can see Todd literally crack at that last line of hers. But before he can get to her, he feels an arm around his throat and he's being shoved out the bedroom door, the gun being taken from him...and as if he was never there, he's locked out. Fast as anything _...goddamn!_

He tries the door in a panic, but it won't budge. Banging away, he calls for Todd...but there's nothing...no sound. Placing his head against the door, he says, "Aw, man, COME ON...don't fuckin' pull this shit now...OPEN THIS DOOR!"

Inside the bedroom, Roseanne is frozen in place, stuck on top of the bed as she watches Todd with the gun in his hand. He's kind of swinging it around, like it's not actually i his hand. He's completely lost it. He's mad as the Mad Hatter.

"Oh god, look at us," he says. "Pathetic. RJ's afraid and isn't that funny? He was hoping to save you from me. But I TOLD you not to push. I ASKED you not to."

"Go ahead, do whatever you want. You'll never know where she is. You'll wander the earth forever...like a fucking vampire."

Todd's on her fast and he's gotten himself perfectly positioned on top of her, on top of the bed.

"I can see EVERYTHING," he whispers.

Placing his hand around her throat, poking the gun deep into her ribs, he adds, "I don't need you anymore." She's scared now and he laughs, his voice rising a couple of octaves. "Oh lookie, poor wittle Roseanne...not so brave without her ebony knight at her side."

"Fuck you. You don't see ANYTHING."

Bending down, placing his lips right on hers, he says, "Montana."

Her eyes widen at first, as he squeezes a fist at her delicate throat, as he watches her mouth. As he grins...

"That's right...I don't need you anymore. *I* feel like _singin'_."

There's nothing Roseanne can do. She lies there quietly, waiting...waiting...the door is being hit. RJ's trying so hard to get in. The safety gets released and Todd groans in a kind of ecstasy. But he quiets, his hot breath falling rhythmically against Roseanne's skin. From someplace outside or inside, he hears a storm raging, a baby crying, and a mother singing a lullaby...such sweet tones, lifting and swaying and comforting. The stinging cut that's been threatening to split Todd in two, three...four...runs down the front of his head...down to his mouth...down his throat...down to his heart. It's blinding him, silencing him further, the pain like blood. He rubs his face against Roseanne's hair, resting his whole body on her.

"I wanna hear more," he says to nobody in particular.

And he does...he listens to more lines, listens to the baby cooing in response.

"Isn't that something?" he murmurs.

Roseanne's features crumple but she says nothing, unable to move beneath Todd's weight on her. The gun's being moved upwards and she imagines him blowing his brains out. _Yeah..._ she likes that and fires the image his way, dreams it up, makes it detailed...

 _Yeah, shoot yourself, baby...pull the trigger...blow yourself UP..._

Sings it, prays it.

"Y'know what it feels like to lose your mind?" he finally says.

"No," she answers, flatly.

"It feels like a chainsaw ripping through you."

"Really. Well, then put the chain saw through ME, why dontcha?"

"I ASKED you not to push me. But you wouldn't let up."

 _Come on, little lost soul, raise that gun and put it to your own head...pull the fucking trigger. Pull! Pull!_

Todd chuckles and shakes his head. When he looks down, he doesn't see Roseanne, but Téa.

"Ohhh," he sighs, "Where have you been? Here on the bed...?"

"Right here, you fuckin' MORON," Roseanne says, "Right on the damned bed, where you have me PINNED."

 _Shoot...yourself...spare your children, your wife, spare them the truth about you._

"Téa," Todd says easily, "You forgive me, right? You know I am so lost without you? Without our kids...I don't mean anything, I don't. I love you, I do. I remember everything about you, about us...you know? I don't forget...I didn't forget."

Roseanne realizes that Todd is confused, that he sees Téa under him and she pouts at that. Trying every angle. "But I can't forgive you...I can't."

"What? Why not...if I can do it, you can..."

"No...there's no hope for us. I'm with Dean now. I love him. He loves me. The only option for you...is to die...like you've always wanted."

"Huh?" He squeezes his eyes shut, because he can't understand what she's saying. His Téa would never say that...and the noise in his head, the pain...it's unbearable. It's so unbearable.

He rests on Roseanne again, sliding the gun to her cheek like he doesn't really know it's there. It's just an extension of his arm, of his hand. She's shaking hard because wouldn't it just be her luck to die by fucking accident after all this? _Jesus...just shoot yourself,_ she says to the gods, to whomever has helped her along, _shoot...your...self._

He lifts himself up onto his hands, partly up on his knees, the gun sliding back down again.

"I love you," he says. "If I'm gonna die, you're coming with me. I can't leave you here."

"What about our children?"

He pauses at that.

Roseanne sees that he's freed her somewhat so with everything she's got, she knees Todd in the groin hard, causing him to fall, to double over…

And it's just enough for her to get out from under him. She scrambles off the bed, slipping on the floor, but gets back up. She tries to open the door, pulling on it, screaming for RJ, "RJ! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" Pounds hard on it.

But the door isn't budging and Todd points the gun at Roseanne, "Don't fuckin' move," he groans. Turning around, she faces him.

"Oh, fine, shoot me! Go ahead, you piece a'shit! GO AHEAD!"

"It would be so easy."

"THEN DO IT!"

Todd's in too much pain though and something's breaking through. Maybe seeing Téa back home for that one instant, maybe hearing her voice saying she loves Dean, maybe hearing his children...their little sounds, his boys...maybe all those things pool together to form a net or a rope yanking him out of hell. Or maybe it's not all that noble or rational, and is more along the lines that he thinks he'll miss if he tries to shoot her.

Whatever it is, it's enough to settle him. It makes him think about things, makes him want to sleep, makes him want to nurse the pain ripping him to shreds, the chainsaw cutting him into pieces and the sharp gut-pain in his scrotum. He thinks Roseanne isn't worth the trouble. He puts the gun down next to him, and pats his chest, his arms...his head, assuring himself that he's still a _person._ That he doesn't have fur or four legs or a fucking tail. He sees everything around him in a bluish light...soothing...and he knows at that point that he's completely and utterly _insane._ He's as sick as he's been in a _long_ motherfuckin' while. It almost makes him want to cry.

"Like the blue," he sniffles to nobody. "Better than blood-red, y'know? Better than yellow."

The door finally bursts open and Roseanne runs out. RJ storms to the bed, grabs the gun back, curses. Not believing what a close call that was. He watches Todd curl up like a pill bug, Todd muttering something about not killing Roseanne and would he get a big ol' point for that?

RJ collapses on the edge of the bed and thumps Todd on the shoulder, "God...I can't fuckin' believe you. Can't believe HER, that stupid girl. NEVER knows when to shut up."

Todd says, "Delgado's in Montana. She went home...with him. With Shelton."

RJ takes that in with a heavy sigh...then he nods. Todd curls up tighter, looking like he's in some real pain. "Can we leave Rosie here? Please tell me we can just ditch her somewhere. PLEASE."

"Shit...I don't know WHAT the fuck to do with her," RJ replies.

"I have a pretty good idea."

"Oh, HELL-no. You just toss THAT idea right outta that scrambled-egg-mess you call your brain. Just TRY and keep your shit together, man...that should keep you plenty busy."

"I'm done, y'know...what do they say? Stick a fork in me..."

"Hear THAT. We better get goin'. You ready to go home?"

"I NEED to go home. I'm not going to make it otherwise."

"Yeah, I know," RJ says, quietly, as he helps Todd up off the bed and walks him out.

Outside, Roseanne huddles in the back of the truck. She got off...he got off...all too easy. There's so much to do, so...much...work.

"It's not over 'till the fat lady sings..." she whispers, to the back of their heads.

 _Sing, little ones...cry yourselves to sleep...I'm coming for you, I'm coming for you._

 **To be continued…**


End file.
